“What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t you know you almost died?”
I did almost die. The moment my veins filled, warming my body, I knew I would be taking my last breath.
I welcomed the freedom.
When I awoke in the hospital, I was instantly filled with sorrow. Sorrow that I had to wade through the muck and mire of my head. Through pain and guilt and remorse that I felt every day.
When Ryder walked into that room, the guilt compounded. He was wrecked. He tried to hide it, but I knew. I know him better than anyone ever could.
Regret filled every cell of my body. I wanted to take back those moments before I stuck the needle in my arm. Maybe I would’ve adjusted the amount.
The problem is, even now, I’m not sure what I would do, given a chance to go back. Use a little less to ensure that near-death experience never happened. Or a little more to make sure the job was done right.
“Maddox, I’ve tried to be there as much as I can for you. You know that.”
“Don’t make me laugh, Bastian. Sending your spies to keep tabs on me isn’t being there for me. I don’t want you there anyway. You know, I thought over the last few years we were at least friends. What a joke, right? You’ve been there for me. How long exactly have you known we werebrothers again?”
He leans back with a loud huff. “A while.”
“Say it, Bastian. Tell me again, exactly. You’ve watched out for me all these years because of some bond of blood. Tell me when you knew.” I’m yelling. My jaw is clenched, and my fists are gripping the armrests of the seat.
“Since you were seventeen,” he growls. “I’ve known since you were seventeen. We’ve been through this.”
“So, when Jax and Zane were running me out of town—when you were standing there watching them do it, you knew.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement of fact.
At the time, I thought it was what I deserved. I still do. I just want to hurt him. “You claim to have watched out for me all these years. You’re dragging me back somewhere I don’t want to be in the name of brotherhood, but you stood there and watched them send me out of town with threats not to return.”
“If I hadn’t done that, Jax would have killed you.”
“You ever think maybe that’s what I wanted?” I sneered. “I’m not afraid of Jax, Bastian. Never have been. Ever wonder why I didn't fight back every time he sucker-punched me? I promise you it wasn’t because I was afraid of him.”
“Fottuto idiota.” Fucking idiot, he mutters. “If you weren’t so strung out all the time, maybe you’d stop feeling sorry for yourself once in a while.”
“Don’t pretend to know me,” I scoff.
He has no idea what I feel. What I’ve been through. He doesn’t know how the weight of guilt and pain and sorrow and horror floods me every fucking second of the day. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to feel this heavy, heavy burden of grief and agony. Of knowing how many people you’ve let down and how many people you will continue to let down. Because fighting the voices and the addiction and the feelings I can’t control have made it too hard to hold on anymore. I’m exhausted trying to keep it all together, so no one seesthat I am anything but perfect.
The drugs? The drugs quiet the thoughts and the noise, even if only for a minute. They are the only time I’m not overwhelmed by these emotions. They help me forget the memories that terrorize every second of my life—cripple me—double me over in agony until I’m gasping for air and praying for death—prayingfor it all to just stop.
The only time I can think straight is when I’m high. It’s the only time that my thoughts and feelings are bearable. The only time the nightmares aren’t part of my waking state.
But drugs, alcohol, and sex are no longer working as they once did. The demons that have chased me for most of my life no longer hide in the shadows when foreign substances or endorphins are altering my brain chemistry.
I’m tired.
“It’s all I could do, Maddox. Pops and your dad said I couldn’t tell you or anyone else. They’re the ones that worked out that deal, so Jax didn’t kill you. All I could do was make sure you got out in one piece.”
I release a low, dark chuckle. “I was never afraid of them. I was worried about Zoey. I was doing what my dad told me I didn’t have a choice but to do, but I needed to see her.”
“And do what, Maddox? What would you have done?”
The truth is, I’ve never been angry about being run out of town. I was broken, even back then. So utterly damaged by the choices I made. Choices I kept making, including one that made me hurt the most important person in my life. I didn’t deserve to stay, or receive her forgiveness. Knowing all these years later that she gave it anyway has been a lot to handle.
But I want Bastian to feel a fraction of the guilt I do. If he’s able to feel at all. I’m not always convinced he has actual emotions or feelings for anyone outside of his wife.
“I would’ve gone to her,” I tell him, projecting as much anger into my voice as I can. It isn’t that hard given the circumstances. I have been pissed off at him for days. This entire charade is the icing on the cake. “I would’ve told her I was sorry. I would have told her I shouldn’t have done any of it. That I shouldn’t have panicked after I did. We could’ve tried—
“Tried what, Maddox? Zoey was always Jax’s. They were always going to end up together. They were written in the stars and all that lovey, dovey bullshit. She loves Jax.”
