It appears to be my lucky day, because both Dillion and Van are in the office when I get there.
“Hey, Aaron, you all finished at the Winslows’？” Dillion’s smile fades when her gaze shifts from Van to me. “Is everything okay?”
“Not really. Do you guys have time to talk?”
“Yeah. Of course. Take a seat.” Dillion motions to the seat across from her. “What’s going on?”
“Uh, is it just the three of us in here?”
“Yeah, it’s just us. Did something happen with a homeowner?”
“It’s not about a homeowner.” I drop into the chair. “It’s about Teagan.”
Van sits up straighter. “Is she okay?”
I shake my head. “She broke up with me last night.”
“What? Why?” Dillion’s expression turns to shock.
“That’s not the issue. I mean, it’s an issue for me, but that’s not the problem.” I fill them in on what happened: the accident she had, her not sleeping, the lying, the medication, even all the calls from Bradley, which Dillion already knew about.
“Shit. I had no idea it was this bad. How long has this been going on?” Van runs his hand through his hair.
“A while. I started noticing that she wasn’t coming to bed back before the first farmers’ market. I thought it might get better when it was over, but it’s only gotten worse. And when I confronted her about it, she lost it on me, and now she’s refusing to talk to me.” I grip the arm of the chair, hating that I feel like I’m betraying her but knowing that I have to. “I think we need to stage an intervention. I don’t like where this is going, and I’m worried she’s going to get hurt or hurt someone else.”
“I think you’re right,” Van says. “She’s already been in a car accident; what happens if next time there’s another car or a person involved?”
“I’m worried about what else she might be hiding.”
“Me too.”
And of course, because this day hasn’t been bad enough, at seven Van gets a call from the pub. Teagan apparently fainted and hit her chin on the sink on the way down and needs to be taken to urgent care.
The three of us head there, Dillion and Van together and me in my own truck. I doubt she’ll want to see me, but I want to see how bad the damage is.
When we arrive, she’s sitting on the floor behind the bar, a wad of paper towels pressed to her chin. They’re soaked with blood.
“What happened?” Dillion and Van flank her, helping her up off the floor.
“I fainted. It’s not a big deal.” Teagan tries to stand on her own, but she wobbles and sags against her brother. Her eyes are slow to track, and when they finally land on me, her brow furrows. “What are you doing here?”
“He came because he’s worried about you. We all are.” Van wraps his arm around her waist. “Come on, let’s get you to urgent care.”
“We’ll call you in a bit.” Dillion squeezes my hand on her way past.
Half an hour later Dillion messages to tell me Teagan didn’t need stitches and that they used Steri-Strips. She passed out because of dehydration and exhaustion, and they’re taking her home, so the intervention will have to wait.
CHAPTER 26
ON THE ROCKS
Aaron
The problem with a small town is that word gets around pretty damn fast when something gossip worthy happens. So I might not have a front-row seat to Teagan unraveling anymore, but I’m hearing the whispers.
Guilt is a heavy hand on my shoulder, making me feel like I’m reliving Devon’s death all over again. I should have done something sooner. I should have tried a different tactic. And now she’s shut me out and I’m paralyzed. I can’t help at all. The only thing I can do is watch from the sidelines as she does a swan dive into dark waters and hope like hell she finds her way back to the surface.
I knew it would get worse before it could get better.
For me, I only realized my problem when I saw what it was doing to my dad. He’d already lost one son. I’d be a special kind of selfish bastard to rob him of another. I moved back to Pearl Lake, pulled myself together, quit drinking, and saw a therapist.
People think addiction is reserved for things like illicit drugs or alcohol. But it’s not. The worst kinds of addictions are the ones that sneak up on people and pick away at them, little by little. Prescription drugs are particularly dangerous. Because they’re given and monitored by a professional. Someone who generally has the best interests of their patient in mind.
Her prescriptions should be safe to take. As long as they’re not combined with the wrong things or used in place of managing the underlying issues.
I’m not surprised when I overhear a couple of people in Boones the next morning, talking about that Firestone woman and how she’s not looking good these days. “Too thin” is whispered, “such a pretty girl, but she’s starting to look strung out.” Someone else mentions the incident when she yelled at the pharmacist because she wouldn’t fill her prescription. They tsk and shake their heads, because we’ve all seen it happen before.
Sometimes it’s one of the wives from the other side of the lake, showing up day drunk in the grocery store. Then a few weeks later she’s at the local pharmacy picking up prescriptions, stopping to buy vodka on the way back to her mansion, huge sunglasses in place to hide her bloodshot eyes.
And then there’s Bob, who sits at the bar from the minute it opens to the minute it closes, eating free peanuts and spending his disability check on beer. Eating the occasional meal someone buys him but mostly drinking himself to death to manage the PTSD.
Any one of those could have been me, and they’re a reminder to stay on track and away from the vices that can rule me.
But with Teagan it’s different. She’s no longer the rich girl from the other side of the lake, and she’s not Bob, whose time in the war has scrambled his brain, and the only way he can survive now is to drown the memories. She’s become part of this town, brushstrokes in a painting that give it light.
She’s getting close to the bottom, and I want to do something to ease the fall.
On Monday I get confirmation that Teagan is on the rocks.
I’m working on the framing for the Wesleys’ outdoor bar. The pool is closed for the season, but their college-aged daughter and her friend have found a reason to prance around in bikinis. They’re taking these thirty-second videos and then jumping in the hot tub to warm up. It’s a special level of ridiculous, but I do my best to ignore them.
Their mom comes out, and I’m hoping she’s going to tell them it’s time to come inside, but she doesn’t.
“Aaron?” She stands at the door, questioning smile firmly in place.
“What can I do for you, ma’am?”
Her left eye twitches once. It happens every time I use the word ma’am. “The designer from Footprint Construction needs a word.”
It takes me a moment to make the connection that she’s talking about Teagan, who appears behind her. I haven’t seen her since Thursday. She looked worse for wear then, but it’s got nothing on how she looks now.