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CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Elle
“Where the fuck have you been?”I demanded when I walked in after work and saw Luke sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal.
He sighed heavily. “I’m not feeling the best, Elle. Can we do this later?”
I tossed my bag and keys on a chair and walked over to him. After disappearing for two nights, he thought he could just show up and not explain himself? I’d been up past midnight last night worrying about him, and it had taken a lot of sweet tea to get me through my workday.
“No, we’re doing it now,” I said. “It’s an easy question, Luke. Where have you been?”
I was relieved to see him, but shaking with fury at his absolute disregard for me. Did he think I wouldn’t worry? My brother was a grown-ass adult and we shouldn’t have been having this conversation.
“I got high,” he said, his tone defeated. “Dad’s right. I’m just a loser junkie.”
“Dad has never said that.”
Luke shrugged. “He thinks it.”
I shook my head, now one-hundred-percent pissed off. “How fucking dare you? Dad doesn’t want to give you money that you’ll use to slowly kill yourself, and I don’t blame him for that.”
“You kicking me out?” Luke asked.
I hesitated, torn. If I kicked him out, he’d end up somewhere awful like a drug house. No matter how angry I was, I couldn’t deny him the safety of my apartment. Here, he could eat, shower, and sleep. And if he ended up in a bad situation, I wanted him to come to me for help.
“No,” I said, the fight draining out of me. “No, I won’t kick you out.”
He nodded, his eyes full of shame. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me.”
“You’re the last person who believed in me, and I let you down.”
I sat down next to him at the table. “Addiction is real, you know. People die from it every day.”
“I know.”
“And CTE is real.”
He nodded as he scooped up the last Lucky Charms marshmallow in his bowl.
“It’s hard for me to believe I could have a different life,” he said. “Impossible, really. The headaches and mood swings are who I am. And drugs and gambling are how I cope. This is it.”
“It’s only it if you let it be.”
He slumped in his chair. “You really think I should go to rehab?”
“Yes.”
“I just don’t see it changing anything,” he said, looking away.
“Then you’re no worse off than when you started. You have to want to change or it won’t work.”
He sighed heavily. “When I woke up yesterday morning, I was so disgusted with myself. I couldn’t face you. I knew you were probably worried, so I just got high again so I wouldn’t have to care.”
“I was worried,” I confirmed. “And I hate watching you treat yourself this way.”
“I’m exhausted, and I need a shower. I know you want to talk some more, but can it wait?”
