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As much as I’d tried to hide my addiction from him and the others—Duke, Beau and Suzie—it had been blatantly obvious I was an addict, unable to control myself. It didn’t mean I was weak. Far from it. I just wasn’t as strong as they were.
I’d been young, and it had seemed to be the only way to forget.
I shrugged. “I’m doing okay, I suppose. Life could be better.” Sure, I had recently decided to better myself, but it was what it was.
“Don’t lie to me, Liam. You forget I got to know you. I know when things aren’t going well, and what are you doing in this neck of the woods? I would have thought you’d want to steer clear of here.”
“Putting old ghosts to rest? Who the fuck knows? I stopped by Stuart’s old house. A couple lives there now with their kids. The woman saw me in the middle of a panic attack and took me inside. I almost shit myself, but it’s different. Not the same house.”
“And have the ghosts vanished?” Ziggy asked.
“Have they fuck? When the husband came into the kitchen, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.”
He took my hand in his. They were soft and warm.
“These things take time. Ask Marc. I still have nightmares. I can’t breathe sometimes. It’s like a weight is sitting on my chest, and my lungs can’t get enough air. It’s fucking awful and scary.”
I knew exactly what he meant.
“But it’s been five years, Ziggy. Why can’t I forget?”
“Did you ever see anyone after it happened?”
“What? You mean like a counsellor or something? Ain’t no one got time for that.” A few people had suggested it, said it was a good idea, but I’d been eighteen and known better. Plus, the drugs had taken the edge off. They’d helped me forget it had ever happened.
When I’d finally got clean, well, it had all seemed such an effort.
God, I was fucking stupid. Maybe I wouldn’t be such a mess if I’d done something about it.
“I have the name of someone if you want to. It’s never too late. He treated Beau too. You know he had his problems.”
I hadn’t known Beau particularly well. He was more Ziggy’s friend than mine. I knew he’d tried to commit suicide and been saved by his now husband, Kwanchai. He’d been in a K-pop band. Something to do with royalty. Princes? Queens? Kings, that was it.
I’d heard them on the radio a few times, but not so much these days.
“It’s too late now. There’s nothing anyone can do for me.”
“Here, give me your phone.” He held out his hand, and I gave it to him reluctantly. “I’m putting my number in. I want you to call me. Any time. Okay? I’ll text me so I have your number too.”
His phone chirped, and he typed away on it, then handed mine back.
Unsure what to say, I leant across the table and gave him an awkward hug. I’d been so stuck in my world, hating everyone, especially Ziggy. I never thought for one minute that he’d be having the same issues I did.
“Hey, it’s all good. We helped Beau when he was having problems. We’ll do the same for you too. It’s what friends are for. Do you have anyone? Did you, you know, find anyone to replace Stuart?”
“Sore subject, but no. Putting myself out there again was just a push too far.”
“I get that. I was lucky I had Marc to help. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you more.”
Typical Ziggy. Here I was, feeling sorry for myself when all he had was concern for me and how I was doing. I felt such a dick.
When it came to it, my friends hadn’t left me. I’d pushed them away. Alienated myself until I had no one.
Perhaps it was time to step out into the world again instead of isolating myself. It was strange that in just over a week, I’d not only met Detective John Palmer but had also run into Ziggy.
Was the world trying to tell me something?
“Fuck, look at the time. I’ll be late.” He stood. I’d forgotten how tall he was. At over six feet, he’d been an unlikely sex worker, but I didn’t miss the sparkle on the trainers he wore. Some things never changed.
