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Can it be fixed? Can I be put back together again?
Hell, even curing some of the goddamn symptoms would be a start. Not dreading going to bed. Being able to sleep at night. Not puking my guts out after a nightmare. Living like a normal person.
Being with Erin.
Fucking maybe. But unless I try, how am I ever gonna convince her to give me another chance? Suck it up, Tyler Grayson, and get to work.
At Damage, I bend my head and do my work, receiving customers, taking payments and making appointments with the tattoo artists, hoping to see Rafe. He’s the only one I can think of—from my hundreds of trusted friends, yeah, very funny, Tyler—who might guide me. He sounded like he has experience with withdrawal symptoms, and maybe he can recommend me a doctor or at least a direction to follow.
During my break, I get a visit from Asher. I let him come to me, keep my hands to my sides. Despite his welcome presence when I visited Dad’s house, he’s still tense around me, and I don’t want him to give up on me yet.
“So what about going for those beers?” he says, shoving his hands into his jeans’ pockets. He glances around nervously, as if he’s shoplifting or something. “I know a bar not far from where you live.”
“Sure. Is Audrey coming, too?”
A dark scowl twists his brows. “Got a problem with that?”
Damn. I lift my hands. “No problem. Honest. Sounds great.” She really means a lot to him. When his face relaxes a fraction, I lower my hands and study his expression as I say, “I think you’re very lucky to have her. She’s real nice.”
Ash freezes. His blue eyes widen and his mouth flaps, as if he fully expected me to insult her. He really thinks I’m an asshole. “Yeah,” he finally says, “she is.”
“I’m happy for you, little bro.”
Ash’s expression shifts again, and again—like a camera lens adjusting, focusing, click, click, and then he grins widely, all anger and confusion leaving his gaze. “Thanks.” And then he turns the tables around when he says, “You getting back with Erin then, are you?”
I swallow hard and push some papers on the desk. “It’s complicated.” I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “She says she’s been mean to you.”
“Not mean.” Ash leans on the desk, propping his elbows on the fume glass. “I can understand her, I guess. Somewhat.” He grimaces.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Ash—”
He punches me in the shoulder, his grin returning. “Yeah, so you’ve said. Enough of that. Just come have a drink with me tonight, okay?”
I nod as he straightens and turns to go. “Count on it.”
***
Rafe finally shows up right before I close shop. He looks like hell and he has a nice dark bruise on his jaw.
“What the hell happened?” I round the desk and stop at the coldness in his eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just came to pick up some stuff from the office. You need something?”
I eye him, notice he’s standing kinda stiffly. Bruised ribs, probably. This has all the signs of a fight.
“Nah. Looks like tonight isn’t a good time.”
“Just ask.” He glances at the office door, then back at me. “Shoot.”
“Okay. Just one question. I’ve been thinking...” Out with it, dammit. “Wondering if I should go see a doctor for the withdrawal symptoms. Maybe he can help me...”
I stop because Rafe’s laughing. Quietly, almost soundlessly, and that makes it even more disturbing.
My hands clench at my sides. “You think this is funny?”
“No, man.” He wipes his hand over his mouth. “It’s just that a doctor can’t help you now. You’ve been through the worst of it. Keep going.” He sobers. “Honestly, Tyler. If it’s been a month, now you just have to keep going. Exercise, eat, meet with friends. Let them help you. Talk to them. Talk to others who’ve been there.”
“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”
