I step over drug paraphernalia on the floor as I follow Galen to where the man who spoke sits at the far end of the room.
“I’m looking for Alisha Lennox,” Galen says, approaching the man. “Is she here?” His gaze flips side to side as he checks people out.
Nausea churns in my gut as I walk past men and women of all ages and races. Most are sprawled across the filthy mattresses. Some are slumped against the walls with their eyes closed. Others are passed out on the floor. The only thing they have in common is pale skin, sunken eyeballs, gaunt cheeks, and an addiction that is worth more to them than life.
I’m not naïve.
I’ve seen and experienced more than my fair share of dark shit in this world, but there is something so heart-wrenchingly devastating about this scene that is almost worse.
They should take pictures of this room and show it in schools. Maybe then, kids would take drugs more seriously. I smoke weed on occasion, but this right here is exactly why I never dabble in drugs. I never want to lose control of myself or lose my will to live. I’ve experienced both, and I swore to myself it would never happen again. I hate I had to go through such a traumatic experience to toughen me up, but I’d rather experience that than go through this living hell day in, day out.
My eyes dart to the skinny woman in the dirty dress lying on her side on a mattress to my right. Her hands are under her head, and clumps of matted hair cover part of her face, but I still recognize her.
I’m shocked at how much she’s deteriorated since I last saw her four years ago. “Galen. Over here.” I bend down in front of her once beautiful face, and she barely resembles the woman I remember. My eyes lower to the strap tied around her arm and the empty needle still stuck in her vein, and I’m overwhelmed with sadness for her and her son.
Galen hovers over his mom on the other side, pulling plastic gloves from his pocket and handing a pair to me. I watch him gloving up with a heavy ache in my heart. His tormented eyes find mine, and I just want to take away his pain. I put my gloves on as he presses his fingers to her neck, closing his eyes, his shoulders visibly relaxing when he finds a pulse.
“Should we wake her?” I ask, wanting to help but not knowing how.
“We can try.” He shakes her shoulders gently. “Mom. It’s Galen. Wake up.” She arches her back, mumbling in her sleep. “C’mon, Mom. Let’s go home.” She squirms again, but her eyes still don’t open. “This is useless.” He sighs, walking around to me, and I straighten up and step aside to let him by. My heart lodges in my throat, and tears prick my eyes as he gently removes the needle from her vein and unties the strap from her arm. I kick both away, letting them join the myriad of other shit on the floor.
Galen scoops his mom up, cradling her to his chest. I walk toward the door, opening it wide for him to step through.
We don’t talk as we walk back down the stairs, out the front door, and over to the Lexus.
I open the passenger side back door, only noticing the blanket draped across the leather interior for the first time. A couple plastic bags and a couple bottles of water are in the side pocket. Galen moves to put his Mom in, but I hold his elbow, stalling him. “Do you want me to drive so you can sit with her?”
“No, I … Yeah. Would that be okay?”
“Of course. Whatever you need.”
I help them get situated in the back. Alisha is still out cold with her head on Galen’s lap as I drag the second blanket over her thin frame.
“Thanks,” Galen says.
“I need the keys,” I remind him, and he lifts his hips, attempting to extract them from his pocket.
“Let me.” He sits his butt back down, and I dig into his jeans pocket, ignoring how my fingers brush against the side of his cock, fishing out the keys.
Our eyes meet, and a lick of red-hot lust ignites the space between us.
“She might get sick,” he whispers. “I’ll try to keep your car clean.”
I grin. “It’s okay. I’m not Saint.” His lips twitch. “We can clean up later. You take care of your mom.” I lean in, kissing his cheek. “You’re a great son.”
His smile fades. “She wouldn’t be like this if that were true.”
I climb behind the wheel and close the door, wanting to get the fuck out of here. “You’re not responsible for her actions,” I say, as I turn the car around, driving back the way we came. “She’s an adult, and she should’ve been the one taking care of you.”
“I’ve never known anything different.” He brushes matted hair back off her face. “Although it wasn’t quite this bad when Dad and Mya were alive.”
“I’m sorry you lost your dad and your sister. I know how horrible it is to lose someone you love.” A muscle ticks in his jaw, and a familiar hard glaze glints in his eyes. I frown as I look at him through the mirror. “Did I say something wrong?”
He forcibly relaxes his facial muscles. “Mya is a touchy subject for me,” he admits after a few beats of tense silence.
“Why?” I ask, turning onto the road that leads to Thornton Heights, because I’m sensing this is more than just grief.
“I’ll tell you later. After we get Mom settled.”
