He sucked in a ragged breath and shook off Hunt’s hand from his shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here?” It took Chase a minute to figure out where here was because everything inside him wanted the last twelve hours erased from reality. He didn’t want it to be true. He didn’t want to be held responsible for another death.
Hunt’s narrowed eyes went wide. “You OD’d and nearly died. Where else would I be but here to force you back on the right path? Again.” The last time Hunt tried to set him straight he’d arrested Chase and had gotten the DA to agree to a deal, rehab instead of jail.
“Why bother?” Hunt obviously thought Chase threw away sixty days of rehab the second he got out. “You don’t care what happens to me.” Sometimes it felt like no one cared about him anymore.
“Because Mom would have wanted us to look out for each other—even if I hate you.” Hunt knew just how to slice open old wounds and make them bleed all over again.
Their mother died seven years ago and nothing had been the same since. His father and brothers blamed him, but he’d done what he thought was right for his mom. She begged him to help her die on her terms. He did it to spare her more pain, so she could die in peace even if she had to do it without her beloved boys.
Chase fell back in the hospital bed and turned away from his brother only to come face-to-face with his younger one. “You too.”
“Yep.” Max gave him a condescending frown. “I think you might have set the record for relapsing after getting out of rehab. Sixty days in and you OD in less than one day out.”
Only he didn’t. His Army buddy Drake did him a solid and asked his girlfriend, Adria, if Chase could crash in the apartment over her shop for a couple days. He needed a minute to figure out how to go home after rehab and rebuild his demolished life.
All he wanted to do was see his little girl and that meant facing her mom, Shelby, and convincing her he’d changed his ways and wanted to put Eliza first.
He prayed he could make Shelby believe him.
“Why are either of you here?” After his mom’s death, his father banished him from their ranch. His mom made him promise to make his dad see reason and let Chase rebuild and repair the failing business. She wanted all of them to always have a home at Split Tree Ranch.
Their family tree had definitely split, leaving his branch broken on the ground while his father and brothers stood against him and kicked him off the ranch and out of their lives.
But he’d kept his promise to his mother and left them all with a business plan and the money to carry it out. The only way to get his hands on a chunk of money without putting them further in debt had been to join the Army and take the big bonus they offered him at enlistment. He needed to escape their hatred and anger and find a place to go and a purpose. He got both, and a new kind of family with his brothers in arms. Knowing he wasn’t welcome at home but he was needed in the service, he reenlisted after his first term ended and sent the bonus he got for that to the ranch, too.
At the time, he thought his service and helping his family was his penance.
It turned out to be his undoing.
He’d served, and served well, but the battles left him scarred, battered, mentally unstable, and ultimately addicted to the very painkillers they gave him for the wounds that healed on his body but not in his mind. That kind of pain never ceased.
His brothers didn’t come today because they cared. They came to pile on the punishment.
Juliana’s haunting face filled his mind. Last night seemed like another nightmare, but it had been all too real. Watching Juliana die because he’d been unable to hold it together long enough to save her killed him. He’d seen her collapse. By the time he got to her, her heart had stopped. He tried to give her CPR, but his demons reared their ugly head. He had some sort of panic attack and couldn’t breathe and passed out. She died because he’d buckled under the pressure.
It had never happened to him in the field under heavy fire, but seeing a young woman, so bright and fresh with so much life left to live drop dead right in front of him broke the last shred of whatever he’d been hanging by these last many months.
“We’re here to take you back to rehab.”
Right. They wanted him out of sight, out of mind.
But he didn’t have a dime to his name. He’d spent everything he had for the sixty days of treatment and therapy.
Right now, he couldn’t even pay his child support.
Shelby told him he didn’t need to until he was back on his feet. Shelby could support Eliza on her own. She told him Eliza needed her daddy and that meant he had to do whatever it took to bring him back, because the man he’d become was not the daddy Eliza deserved.
He stared up at the ceiling tiles and shook his head. “I finished rehab.” He’d done the work. Now, he wanted to get his life back. He’d missed too damn much time with Eliza. She deserved better. He wanted to give it to her, even if he wasn’t quite sure how to do that.
He picked up his phone, hoping it still had a charge.
What if Shelby left him a message? What if she needed him? What if something happened to Eliza?
His thoughts spun out and his breathing turned sharp and desperate when he stared at the black screen, his phone completely dead.
Hunt took his phone and set it on the table. “Look at you. You’re so desperate to call your supplier—”
“I’m not doing drugs,” he snapped, trying to keep from losing it. “Is Drake around? I need my stuff.” His military buddy had helped save his life more than once. He got Chase into the same rehab where Juliana had stayed, though she’d arrived after him and left before him.
Hunt planted his fists on his hips. “Dude. Focus.”
“I need to charge my phone. It’s important.”
Hunt stepped aside and revealed the military duffle bag sitting against the wall behind him. “We picked up your stuff this morning before we came here.”
“Is my charging cord in there?”
Hunt rolled his eyes, annoyed as hell, but Chase didn’t care. Hunt pulled the cord out of the top of the bag. Chase snatched it out of his hand and plugged in his phone and the cord to the wall behind his hospital bed.
The second the phone lit up with the battery-charging symbol, he pressed the side button to turn it on and stared at the spinning circle as his phone went through its start-up.
Hunt swore. “You need to face reality, Chase. You OD’d. You nearly died. Again.”
“I’m not using!” He’d gotten clean and worked with a therapist to quiet his demons, even if he couldn’t kill them.
“You can’t lie to us, man.” Max leaned forward. “We’re not buying your bullshit anymore. The doctor said you’re using.”
Only he wasn’t. He couldn’t explain how he OD’d last night. He hoped Drake could fill in the blank in his mind. It had happened before, losing time. PTSD, anxiety, and depression had taken over his life along with the drugs. He just needed to talk to Drake to figure out what happened to Juliana and him last night. Because he felt like he was missing a huge piece of the puzzle that landed him in a hospital bed.
“I’m not taking any more of your accusations and blame and anger. Go home. I don’t need you.” He needed to see Eliza.