Not only is it fucking insane, it’s downright stupid.
“I’m already doing it.” He unlocks the car doors. “Go in there and do what you need to do in order to get yourself better. We’ll all be here when you get back.”
Grumbling, I grab my suitcase out of the trunk.
Asher rolls down the passenger window. “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”
I flip him the bird. I wanted this help to be quick and painless, but this shit seems like it will be endless and grueling.
As my brother drives off, I contemplate calling a cab to pick me up.
I could head back to Vegas. Go back to my life.
Go back to gambling.
But then I’d lose her…and the life I want with her.
Which means the only option I have is to fold.
This time for good.
Chapter 62
Preston
It’s been forty-eight hours since I’ve stepped foot inside this shithole, and I want out.
The first day wasn’t horrible. After searching my bags, they showed me to my small private room and had me speak to an admitting nurse and doctor. After that, I went to the dining room for dinner. Food wasn’t bad. A little bland, but thanks to my wife, I’ve had worse.
The second day is where I about lost my shit.
They made me go to group therapy. Everyone sat around in a circle and shared what they were in here for…
And then they talked about their feelings.
I promptly got up and left.
And now? Now, these shitheads are making me talk to a psycho-something who’s evidently a wizard holding the key to my future because if I refuse to speak to him…they’ll kick me out.
It’s complete bullshit if you ask me.
The fucker pushes his glasses up his big nose. “Let’s discuss why your gambling has become such a problem for you.”
“It’s not a problem for me,” I correct. “It’s a problem for my wife. Hence, I’m here.”
He crosses his legs, showing off a colorful pair of socks with what appears to be tiny fishes on them. Fucking weirdo.
“So, you don’t think your gambling is a problem?”
Here we go with the psychoanalyzing bullshit. “Only in the sense that it’s a problem for my wife.” I cross my arms. “It shouldn’t be, though because aside from a few days ago it had been almost a year since I’d stepped foot in a casino.”
Take that, Dr. Freud.
“Why did you refrain from gambling for so long?”
“For her.”
I also figured that once the year was over, she’d realize I had control over my gambling and wouldn’t bitch about it ever again.
That didn’t fucking happen, though. The first time I went back to the casino, Kit drew a line in the sand.
Gambling or her.
But as much as I love to gamble, I love her more.
Fish Socks scratches his chin. “I see.”
“Great.” I gesture between us. “Then do your job and fix me so I can go back home to my wife.”
Every second without her feels like an eternity.
Not to mention, my brother is shelling out a shit ton of money for this place.
“That’s not how this works, Preston.” Picking up a coffee mug, he takes a sip. “I don’t have the magic formula to fix you. That’s something you have to be ready and willing to do yourself.”
This fucking guy. “If that’s the case, why are you getting paid to be here instead of me?”
“I’m not getting paid to fix you. I’m getting paid to give you the tools to do it.”
“Fine.” I lean back in my seat. “Let’s get this shit over with then. Give me the tools.”
The quicker he tells me, the quicker I go home.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you seem to be looking for a fast resolution.”
Nothing gets past him. “That’s exactly what I’m looking for.”
He places his coffee mug on the table. “That doesn’t exist. Therapy isn’t a shortcut. It’s hard work that you have to be willing to put in.”
I’ve had about all I can take of this shit.
“Jesus Christ. It’s just fucking gambling. Plenty of people do it. Hell, thousands of people go to Vegas each day and no one is throwing them into rehab. You know why? Because it isn’t a fucking problem.”
I’m not shooting heroin into my veins or smoking crack. I’m playing fucking poker. Everyone needs to get a damn grip.
He seems unfazed by my outburst. “And alcohol isn’t a problem for people who aren’t alcoholics.”
“It’s not the same thing,” I grit through my teeth. “Playing poker is a pastime. A national fucking hobby.”
He writes something down in his notepad. “That might be true for others, but not for you. In layman’s terms, addiction is using a substance or engaging in behavior even though it causes physical or psychological harm.”
And there it is. “None of which I’ve ever experienced. So, I’m good.”
He scratches his chin again. “You don’t think gambling for four days straight after a fight with your wife is harmful?” He leans forward in his chair. “How about not being able to walk away even though you’re losing money? Or forgoing basic necessities like food because you’d rather use the money in your pocket at the casino?”
I get what he’s saying, but he’s making it sound a lot worse than it is. “Fine. Yes, those things have happened.” Too many times to count. “But it doesn’t happen every time.”
“Addiction is a disease like any other. Sometimes there are periods of remission and other times the symptoms don’t significantly interfere with your daily life. But it’s still a disease. One only you and you alone can manage.”
I stay silent.
“But as with all diseases, there’s always a root cause.” He looks down at his notepad. “Your brother said you had an abusive childhood. Let’s talk about that.”
Over my dead body. “Let’s not.”
“The only way you can conquer your demons is to talk about them.”
“My father pushed me around sometimes,” I grind out. “I survived. The end.”
“Only it isn’t,” he counters. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t still be suffering from the effects of it.” He places the pad down on the table. “I want to help you, Preston. But in order to do that you not only have to be honest with me, you’ll need to be honest with yourself.” His brows furrow. “Tell me about your childhood.”
My chest coils and it takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to punch this asshole so hard it knocks him off the chair.
Gambling? Sure. I’ll talk about that shit until I’m blue in the face if that’s what it takes.
Want me to admit I have a problem? Fine. I have a problem.
But my father? What he did.
Get the fuck out of here with that shit.
There’s only one person I’ll ever talk about that with and she’s not here.
I stand. “Go fuck yourself.”
Chapter 63