Craving Absolution Read online

  In and out; no drama, no panicking. I silently repeated the mantra over and over again as Cody opened the door and guided me inside.

  Chapter 32

  Farrah

  “You came,” Slider rasped from the bed, his voice forcing my eyes from the gray-speckled floor tiles.

  “I didn’t realize I had a choice.” I glanced at where Vera sat in a chair next to the bed. She looked haggard, her hair in a messy ponytail and a large black sweatshirt hanging off her skinny frame.

  The room grew uncomfortably silent as we watched each other, and Cody’s hand no longer felt comforting, but heavy on my back. I stepped to the side, moving away from him, but I couldn’t go far. The room was so tiny that we couldn’t even close the door, and the sounds from the group outside made me feel even more unhinged.

  “Give us a minute,” Slider ordered Vera and Cody, never looking away from my face.

  “Baby—” Vera tried to argue.

  “A minute, Vera,” he stated firmly.

  Cody reached out and squeezed my bicep before stepping out, and I scooted even closer to the wall as Vera got to her feet and walked around me.

  “Close the door.”

  “You’re awfully good at giving orders when you can’t even stand on your own two feet,” I bitched, swinging the door shut. It was heavier than I’d imagined.

  The room grew quiet again, and I forced myself not to fidget. It was the first time we’d ever been closed in somewhere alone, and I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. I couldn’t even look at him, instead keeping my eyes on the dry erase board on the wall.

  Your nurse today is Natasha.

  Ironic.

  “I don’t think you’re a club whore,” he suddenly blurted, startling me.

  “Uh, okay.” When he didn’t say anything else, I turned my eyes toward him. “Is that all you needed?”

  “No.” His face was weary and his eyes unfocused as he rubbed a hand studded with an IV over his closely cropped beard. “Can you sit?”

  “I’d rather not.” That chair was way too close to him.

  “Fuck.”

  Slider was as uncomfortable as I was, and it comforted me as much as it pissed me off. Why the hell had he summoned me if he didn’t have anything to say?

  We sat in silence for a moment, the second ticking by before he looked away and muttered, “I love ya.”

  “What?” I screeched. The door slammed into my back as someone tried to force their way in, and I stumbled before catching my footing.

  “Get the fuck out!” Slider yelled, his face immediately contorting into a grimace.

  The door behind me slammed shut again, and I turned my head to watch it wearily before stepping back against it.

  “Jesus Christ!” he mumbled.

  “Can you just say whatever the fuck you need to say? I’d like to go home to my apartment sometime this year. My houseplants are dying.”

  “If you had any houseplants, they’re fucking dead as shit by now,” he said flatly.

  “Seriously, Slider. What do you want?”

  I slid my hands into the back pockets of my jeans just to do something with my hands, then immediately pulled them out as I saw where his gaze had landed. I’d unconsciously emphasized the roundness of my belly.

  “Casper’s?” he asked quietly, glancing up at the door behind me.

  I gave him a curt nod. “He doesn’t know yet.”

  “Bet he’ll be happy.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Gotta learn to trust him.”

  I laughed humorlessly.

  “I love ya,” he repeated, stronger this time. “I’ve always loved ya. No matter where you were, no matter what was happening. If I’d known—” He stopped to clear his throat. “I didn’t know, Farrah. That’s the fucking truth. Your mother, she came back with the cops, and I thought she’d changed her mind. Vera was goddamn inconsolable, and at first I was just waiting to hear from her. Natasha was clearing our fuckin’ bank account left and right, up until she gave you to us. When she didn’t come back around asking for money, I thought maybe she’d decided to keep ya. Wanted to be a mom or some shit.”

  “You didn’t look for me,” I reminded him.

  “I did. I did fuckin’ look for ya. I never stopped lookin’! She was a fuckin’ ghost. She didn’t hook up with Gator ’til you were what? Twelve? How the fuck would I think to look right under our noses? Who the fuck is stupid enough to start messin’ with the same fuckin’ club you were hidin’ from?”

  “Natasha,” I answered. “Obviously.”

  “Sweetheart, the minute I knew where you were, I fuckin’ came to you. You remember that?”

  He was saying all the right words, pushing all the right buttons, and I was so fucking torn. My entire life I’d been told that my father hadn’t wanted me. That he was dangerous. That he’d kill me. And now, here was this man, laying it all out for me—completely fucking sincere—and I didn’t know what to do with that.

  So I bluffed. “Three months ago—”

  “No. No, fuck that.” His hand formed a fist on the bed, and I couldn’t look away from the veins bulging in his forearm. “I did what I had to do to keep you fuckin’ safe. I’m not apologizing for that.”

  My gaze snapped to his. “What?” I asked in confusion.

  “We had a fuckin’ mole, Farrah. Fuckin’ killed me to do it, but you weren’t safe there.”

  “What?” I whispered again.

  “Had to get you outta that clubhouse.”

  “No.”

  “Couldn’t see who it was, didn’t know where the threat was coming from.”

  “No.”

  “Had to make it look like I didn’t give a shit.”

  “No.”

  “Stop saying no, goddamn it. I did what I had to do, and you’re fuckin’ standin’ here lookin’ at me, which means it worked.”

  I stepped forward to grab the edge of the bed to steady myself, and watched in horror as Slider tried to climb from the bed, pulling at his IVs.

  “Stop! What are you doing?” I hissed.

  “Sit the fuck down before you fall down!” he ordered. He was scowling, but it didn’t hide the fear in his eyes.

  “Fine!” I snapped back, taking a deep breath as I rounded the bed and sat in the chair Vera had been sitting in.

  “This is so fucking confusing,” I mumbled, rubbing my forehead with the tips of my fingers. My head had begun to pound, and my stomach was getting more and more upset the longer I was in the room.

  “It ain’t confusin’, baby girl,” he told me quietly. “I’ve loved ya since before you were born, and I’ll love ya after I’m six feet under. Only thing you gotta think about is what you wanna do with that.”

  “I don’t . . .” I shook my head, trying to untangle my thoughts. “I’m not calling you Dad.”

  Slider burst out laughing. “Don’t expect ya to.”

  “I just—this is a lot to deal with. Okay? And shit, I mean, I know you’re hurt and everything, and I know you’re hoping for some father and daughter dance through the wildflowers.” I met his eyes and put my hand on my rounded belly. “I’ve got a lot of my own shit I have to deal with. I don’t have room for you.”

  His face fell, and I knew then that he’d been hoping for a different outcome. I just couldn’t give it to him.

  “Thank you for telling me . . . all this,” I said, standing from my chair. “Maybe I’ll stop by after you’ve broken out of here.”

  “You’d be welcome,” he replied gruffly.

  I turned around and reached for the door, but I couldn’t help but turn back one last time as I opened it. The look on his face killed me. He’d laid himself bare, something I instinctively knew he’d never done before, and I’d rejected him.

  “Sign the papers and get your leg fixed, old man.”

  He nodded and looked away. That was my cue to leave.

  “Take me home,” I ordered Cody as I strode out of the room and straight for the elevato
rs. Before I could reach them, wiry arms were wrapped around my waist, halting my progress.

  “Farrah!”

  I jerked to a halt and looked at Cameron in confusion, and then for the first time that day I felt a wide smile stretch my face. Man, he was a sight for sore eyes.

  “Hey, dude! How’ve you been?”

  He shrugged. “Bored as hell.”

  “Watch your mouth.” There was no heat in my words. Shit, I’d missed that boy. We’d talked a few times while I was gone, but never for very long. There was something going on with him, something I couldn’t pinpoint, and it had almost seemed like each time we’d spoke he was choosing his words very carefully to say what I wanted to hear.

  “Are you going home? Can I come with you?” His arm tightened around my waist as the elevator doors opened, and I glanced at Cody to see his face completely emotionless.

  My attention was brought back to Cameron when his arm bumped my belly deliberately, and as his brow creased in question, I shook my head once at him in warning. Shit, at this rate, everyone was going to know about the baby before Cody.

  “I’ll come get you tomorrow. Okay, bud? We’ll hang out then.”

  Cody walked into the elevator and held the door as Cameron’s face fell.

  “Yeah, okay,” he answered quietly.

  “Tomorrow, bud. I promise,” I whispered, giving him a squeeze. “I need to talk to Cody tonight.”

  I let go of Cameron and made my way into the elevator, but as we rode it to the first floor, Cody and I didn’t say anything. We didn’t speak the entire way home, and nervousness was like a pit of snakes in my belly, making me so nauseous that I’d broken out in a cold sweat by the time we walked into my apartment.

  The place smelled musty, but someone must have come in and took out the garbage, because thankfully it didn’t stink to high heaven. I dropped my purse on the kitchen table and turned to say something to Cody, but he’d set my quilt on the back of the couch and wasn’t moving into the room.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Gonna run to the club for a bit.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah, baby. Got some shit to do.”

  My shoulders dropped, disappointment feeling like a heavy weight on my chest. I hadn’t seen him in months. What the hell was he doing?

  “Will you be back later?” I asked awkwardly, trying to think of some reason I could ask him to stay without blurting out the news of our upcoming delivery or vomiting on the floor. My stomach was seriously turning by that point, and I could feel my face beginning to sweat. Shit, this wasn’t how our reunion was supposed to go.

  “Yeah, Ladybug. I’ll come back later tonight.”

  Cody didn’t come to kiss me good-bye, but at that point I wouldn’t have welcomed his face anywhere near mine. I was taking deep breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to keep the bile in my throat from erupting.

  He turned and walked out the door, and I could hear him locking it from the outside as I stood frozen in place. As soon as his footsteps faded away, I grabbed my purse and rushed into the bathroom.

  After the first round of vomiting, I felt a little bit better, so I pulled my hair out of its bun and got to work. I had doubles of almost all of my toiletries—that was what happened when you could buy shit for super cheap at the beauty supply store and rarely got rid of anything—and I painstakingly ratted my hair and painted my face. It was slow going since I felt like shit, but eventually, I had a smooth bouffant and smoky eyes, making me feel a little more prepared for my upcoming conversation.

  Gram still hadn’t gotten back with my clothes by the time I was finished. She’d planned on being only a couple of hours behind me, but maybe she’d decided to visit Callie before she came home. I needed to call Callie, I thought, as I made my way to the couch. Maybe I’d do it in a little while after my stomach had settled.

  I took my jeans and flannel shirt off, and wrapped myself in the comfort of my quilt, immediately sliding down so I was resting on my side. My mind wandered lazily through my conversation with Slider, and I tried to think logically about what it all meant, but I was freaking exhausted.

  Barely sleeping the last two nights had depleted any reserves I’d built up, and I closed my burning eyes for a moment. I hadn’t even realized that I’d fallen asleep until I woke up with a start and threw up my entire way to the bathroom, getting vomit everywhere.

  As the sun lowered and the sky grew dark, I waited for Cody to show up, but he never did. Instead, I was alone in the quiet apartment, throwing up over and over until there was nothing left, and still the retching continued.

  What the hell was taking him so long?

  After . . .

  Chapter 33

  Casper

  Fuck, I’d fallen asleep at the club.

  I rolled over to grab my ringing phone, not bothering to check who it was before answering.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s Gram. Hey, I can’t get a hold of Farrah. Is she with you?”

  My body jackknifed into a sitting position, the worry in Gram’s voice like a bucket of ice water pouring over my head. “No, she’s at home. I slept at the club last night.”

  “Why the hell would you do that?”

  “I had some shit to do here.”

  “Bullshit,” she said. “I knocked on Farrah’s door but she’s not answering. You still have your key?”

  “Yeah, don’t you have one?”

  “Think I mighta left it at Lily’s. I can’t find the damn thing anywhere.”

  “Shit. Okay, I’ll go over there now,” I told her, pulling on my jeans.

  “Hurry, son. Something’s not right.”

  “I’ll have her call you when I get there. I’m sure everything’s fine,” I reassured her before hanging up.

  Why the hell wasn’t Farrah answering her phone? This felt a whole hell of a lot like the shit we used to deal with when she went off the rails; I couldn’t remember the number of times Gram had called me to see if I knew where Farrah was. I usually had, since I’d followed her ass around like a lost puppy.

  I knew that Gram hadn’t consciously appointed me Farrah’s watchdog, but resentment still hit me out of nowhere when I thought about all the time I’d spent chasing after her. I didn’t have time for her shit anymore; bigger things were going on than her finding out her daddy loved her. No, I was worried for no reason. My head was all over the place, but I knew she wouldn’t fall back into her old habits. That wasn’t her anymore.

  It only took me about twenty minutes to get to Farrah’s apartment, and as I opened up the front door, the first thing that hit me was the smell. Fucking disgusting.

  Fucking disgusting, but familiar.

  Goddamn it.

  She’d thrown up all down the hallway, and I had to breathe through my mouth and step around spots of it on the carpet as I made my way to her bedroom. My emotions were swinging between overwhelming fear that she’d killed herself, and fury that she’d done this again. So when I saw her kneeling in front of the toilet, safe and looking like shit, fury won out.

  I laid into her, pissed as hell and completely unfiltered. What the fuck was she doing to herself? She’d promised that she was done with the drugs and booze, yet here she was, too fucking wasted to even make it to the bathroom before losing her shit. I vaguely wondered who she’d been partying with, but had to focus on anything else when the thought of her being trashed with some other guy made me see red. What the fuck was I doing?

  She wasn’t answering me, too drunk or high or whatever the fuck she was to give me a coherent answer, and I’d had enough.

  Why the hell was I even still standing in her apartment? With absolute certainty, I knew that I’d never again be the guy that watched her get so wasted that she couldn’t hold up her own head. I couldn’t do it. My head was fucked up enough; my dreams the night before filled with the woman I’d killed. I couldn’t be Farrah’s fucking savior again.

  Frankly, I just
didn’t have it in me, and I hated myself for it.

  I turned and walked out the door, ignoring her as she tried to call me back. We’d been down that road before, her begging me in her drunken stupor to take care of her, to love her, to make everything better. Hadn’t she figured it out yet? I didn’t make shit better. I could barely take care of my fucking self; taking care of someone else was completely beyond my capability.

  I hated to do it, but I decided I’d call Gram. She could take care of it so I could stay far, far away from it.

  I left the door unlocked as I left her apartment, but I couldn’t make myself leave once I’d climbed on my bike. My hands were shaking so badly, it looked like I was having a seizure. I needed to go back up there. I did. She needed me, and I’d left her. Could I really make myself leave when she was in that shape? God, it had been worse than I’d ever seen her.

  I loved her so much, and my determination to let her figure her own shit out was faltering. Maybe it was just a small setback. Maybe I’d misunderstood. No, no, I couldn’t think like that. I knew what I’d seen. But if I took care of her this time—from the very beginning, instead of cleaning up after her—maybe I could stop it before it got bad.

  I shouldn’t have left her the day before. I’d been selfish, needing a little time to myself, and I’d spent the day on my bike instead of making sure she was okay. I’d known that whatever went on with Slider would mess with her head, but I’d been too stuck on my own shit that I hadn’t given it a second thought when I’d left her standing in the middle of her kitchen.

  Had I done this? Had she needed me and I hadn’t seen it? She’d seemed okay when she’d left Slider’s room the day before, but I knew, I fucking knew how well Farrah hid her emotions. I should have taken better care of her. I should have looked below the surface.

  Goddamn it.

  I climbed back off my bike and froze as I watched Gram leave her apartment and run toward Farrah’s, her cell phone pressed to her ear.

  Jesus Christ.