He sniffs while I rub his back, then continues, “I made Ryann promise to try her damndest to get out of that life, if I agreed to let her friend from the women’s shelter—the same one my mother went to years before, and the one Ryann often went to with Morgan—get me into the treatment facility.”
Realization dawns on me. I know who would have been the head of the women’s shelter back then. “Miranda…”
“What?” Gordy blinks at me, tears rimming his eyelids.
“I’m willing to bet my sister-in-law was that friend. Gordy, Miranda had just been promoted to the head of that shelter back then…”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “I doubt she would have helped me. Evan would have rather I offed myself, I’m sure of it, after the harassment I put him through.”
“That’s not true at all. Evan wouldn’t wish death on anyone. And yes, Miranda would most definitely have helped you. She was a good person like that. She’d give you the shirt off her own back, if she thought it would help. The world lost a good woman the day she died,” I reassure him, because Miranda was a light that went out way too soon, for sure.
“I bet she wouldn’t have if she’d known I would eventually cause Ryann’s death, years later. The night before I checked in, I snuck out of that hotel, found out who her pimp was. I beat that motherfucker to nearly an inch of his life for making her sell herself, just so she could afford pills to keep herself high enough to prevent her from havingwithdrawals. All that rage I harbored for Marlin? I took it out on him. I nearly fuckin’ killed a guy, Gannett. In doing that, I set off a chain of events that took Ryann from this world…”
He sobs some more, and all I can do is hold him tightly as he falls apart in my arms. “You didn’t kill the guy, though. So, why do you feel that’s what led to Ryann’s overdose?”
“I never gave up my hunt for Ryann and Marie after I got out. A while later, I found out that Ryann had overdosed and passed away, and that her brother took custody of Mar—uhm—Morgan. I’d bet anything that crowd she was messed up with retaliated somehow for what I’d done, for putting that motherfucker behind bars and exposing that little sex-trafficking and drug ring. They kept her in that life, against her will, and it’s all because I let that angerconsumeme.”
His cries of agony reverberate around the room, and I can’t help but tear up along with him. My heart is torn to shreds for him, for everyone involved in this terrible series of events. I don’t know what to say to him right now—because how the fuck can a few strung together words even come close to mending this level of hurt he’s held onto for so long?
We stay just like this, him crying—wailing with his face buried on my shoulder—for a long time. Not once do I stop rubbing his back or offering him tiny reassurances that I’ve got him. Finally, he collects himself, straightening up and looking into my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, knowing that a million apologies could never be enough. No amount of words could ever erase that kind of emotional damage.
“It’s not your fault,” he rasps, swiping at the residual wetness on his cheeks.
I shake my head. “I made you talk about it. I didn’tknow—”
“Getting it off my chest, it—it helped,” he admits, cutting me off. “Brooks told me that I needed to start letting people in. So, I guess I owe you athank youfor being stubborn enough to open that door. He obviously doesn’t know any of this. I mean, he knows about Marlin, and me going to treatment, but I never told anyone about how I got there. Not until you.”
“I feel honored that you trusted me with that, then. But please, Gordy, know that I will guard this with my life. While I do feel like you should tell Brooks, that has to be on your own terms—whenyou’re ready. I know, right now, you feel responsible for Ryann’s death, but, you have to know, you’re not. You can’t shoulder that kind of weight your whole life. If what you suspect is true, then, well, those assholes she was messed up with are to blame. You didn’t force her to make that kind of choice,theydid. The best thing you can do now, if not for yourself, then for her, is to reallylive, you know? Right now, you’re just surviving. You need tothrive.”
“I don’t know how,” he tells me, his cracked voice barely above a whisper.
Chapter Thirteen
How the hell am I supposed tothrivewhen I feel as wrung out physically as I do emotionally, after everything I’ve just laid bare. And the fuck of it all is, he doesn’t even know all of it—theextentof Marlin’s abuse. Not a soul on this planet—above ground or below—does, except for me and that fucking child molester.
I guess I can now add this to the list of half-truths I’ve ever given anyone, however. That’s progress Brooks was hoping I would make, though I never expected it would be with Gannett, of all people. The last person who I would expect to have any shred of empathy, because all he does is fuckin’ joke around all the time, sat right here and held me while my floodgates burst.
Gannett, whose deep blue eyes are regarding me with such compassion and concern right now, that I’m damn near close to breaking down all over again. They’re the same eyes that broke me on the mat earlier, when he was pleading for me to give him this truth. I lost allthe fight I had in me, once I saw how damned determined he was to beat me and win that bet.
I could have rallied and taken him, but something in my gut told me that if he thought I was worth fighting for then, he might just think I was worth fighting for after he’d heard what a lost cause I am. For the briefest second, it was almost like Ryannsenthim there so he could save me. It’s irrational, I know, but even now, I can’t shake the feeling that she had a hand in him showing up at the gym, when my plan was to come home and—
“I know I’m not a miracle worker, and I don’t know a damn thing about how to help you win the long-game,” Gannett says, cutting me off from my self-loathing, “but, what can I doright nowto help?”
Desperately not wanting to wind up like I did this past week—remembering how I’d failed Ryann, and regressing back into that dark hole I’ve spent years trying to claw my way out of—I ask, “Can you… stay with me tonight?”
The shock in his expression, likely at my unorthodox ask, quickly gives way to—I don’t know—relief? “Of course. I was going to suggest it anyway. I half suspected today might trigger a night terror, and, well, I’m sorry, but I’m not about to just let youride it out. I held you through one before; I’d feel better if I were here to do it again, if need be.”
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He smirks, pinching my cheek. “Such a big boy, using your manners.”
“Shut up, you dink.” I swat at his hand, scowling. Guess who is back to his usual bullshit.
“Are you hangry? I’m getting the feeling that you might be a little cranky…” he snarks. “I know I’m fuckin’starving.”
I scoff then grin, curiously unable to stay perturbed by his goofy ass for more than a half a millisecond. It’s genuinely relieving that he’s not still sitting here pitying me, honestly. “I could eat, but not anythingyoucook. You owe me a new microwave, by the way. I cannot get the smell of smoke out of it.”
