Broken Open
Page 37
He shook his head, as if that made her statement less true.
“I do what needs doing. I’m not splitting the atom.”
“Sure. If what needs doing is this garden. Or all the rescue animals you take in. Or the whole making and recording hit albums thing. Oh, or the running a ranch to be able to say ranching has been in your family another generation. I mean, most people are glad to fall into bed at night and call it a success that they managed to get through the day.”
He pushed back and she felt that wall between them get a little wider. She’d touched a nerve and no one liked that. She understood it, but it stung.
“I’m sorry. I wanted to compliment you but I’ve upset you.”
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, emotional. He paced a little. “No, it’s me. I’m being an asshole. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
She watched him through eyes that were as perceptive as they were full of shadows. But she held nothing back. She didn’t just look at him, Tuesday seemed to see him. That gaze wrecked him. She didn’t even see the harsh exterior he used to keep people from getting close enough to see into the darkest parts of him. She just waltzed right up to him, nose to nose, and called him out.
It was...humbling.
His gruff exterior didn’t hide a thing from her. Tuesday saw right to the bone in a way that only someone else who’d been out on the edge of their own inner darkness could do.
He shook his head and turned on his heel to face her. She’d gone back to the bench, giving him space to process.
“I have a lot of energy and keeping busy means I usually stay out of trouble. At first it was to do something else. Other than use. For about three months it’s all I thought about. Using and then about not using. Thinking about not using is a mental and emotional version of being drug sick.” He snorted. “You think about not thinking about it, practice not thinking about it so essentially the outline of your addiction becomes a giant mountain you have to hike around every fucking day until you figure out how to get rid of it.”
One of her brows rose regally. “So that became your obsession. Fuck thinking about heroin and not using heroin and fuck being enslaved to something that had wrecked your life. Your revenge was going to be nuking that mountain you had to dance around every day.”
He had to fist his hands to keep rooted to the spot and not stride off.
A shrug this time as she took in his reaction, knew exactly what was happening. “So you’re thinking, what the hell does she know about it?”
He sighed. Her honesty made it impossible to walk away and be a coward.”
“When Eric died I didn’t get busy, I got blank. It’s a coping mechanism to trauma. Just like being really busy is a coping mechanism. Hell yes, you’re exceptional. You’re special and unique. But you’re not so freaking special you get a pass from the emotional devastation that’s the aftermath of something like addiction. Or me from my bullshit.”
He scoffed. “I’d never compare my shit to yours. Heroin didn’t happen to me, Tuesday. I ran out after it. I used heroin like it was my fucking job.”
“It’s not my place to give you a pass for what you did. But it seems to me, you’re harsher on yourself than anyone you hurt when you were using.”
He didn’t speak, but she saw everything anyway. Ezra could watch her face and know everything she was thinking. It was fascinating and horrifying. He wanted to run away. Wanted to give her words his back but that would make him a liar and he was done with that.
What could he say to that? You should have known me then? Should have known the Ezra who nearly let his mother shoot up just to get a taste for himself?
But Tuesday wasn’t done. “So sure, you made using drugs the center of your life, but when you turned it around, you truly did that. When you turned it around, it wasn’t your job anymore. Instead of being owned by your addiction, you were done with it. You took your life back. You moved past it and you keep busy so you use all your energy in ways that don’t land you in rehab. You have a family that relies on you. Trusts you.” She looked him over. “I’d tell you that it’s been years and they’ve forgiven you and you’ve earned their trust back, but I don’t know that you’d believe me. And whatever, it’s not my job to manage your recovery. I can only tell you what I see from the outside.”
“Most of the time people tell me what I want to hear. It’s frustrating because I know they’re full of shit. Unvarnished truths are rare outside my immediate family.”
She shrugged. “I bet. I’m not your fan, Ezra. Though I do like your music a great deal. I’m not here for who you are onstage. Though I’d be a filthy liar if I denied how hot you are out there. I’m here for the real Ezra.”
He was on her in two steps, bringing her to her feet as he backed her against the trunk of a nearby tree. His mouth took hers in a kiss she opened to as eagerly as he delivered it.
She broke with a gasp when he covered her breasts with his hands. “You really do like kissing me in gardens, don’t you?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
HE KISSED HER EAR. “I really have very little willpower when it comes to you. You look so pretty and the light hits you just right and all I know is that I want you.”
“I aim to please,” she gasped out.
He stepped back with a pained groan. “Inside. We could be interrupted and God knows I’d never be able to get enough therapy if my mother stumbled into this scene.”
“I do what needs doing. I’m not splitting the atom.”
“Sure. If what needs doing is this garden. Or all the rescue animals you take in. Or the whole making and recording hit albums thing. Oh, or the running a ranch to be able to say ranching has been in your family another generation. I mean, most people are glad to fall into bed at night and call it a success that they managed to get through the day.”
He pushed back and she felt that wall between them get a little wider. She’d touched a nerve and no one liked that. She understood it, but it stung.
“I’m sorry. I wanted to compliment you but I’ve upset you.”
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, emotional. He paced a little. “No, it’s me. I’m being an asshole. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
She watched him through eyes that were as perceptive as they were full of shadows. But she held nothing back. She didn’t just look at him, Tuesday seemed to see him. That gaze wrecked him. She didn’t even see the harsh exterior he used to keep people from getting close enough to see into the darkest parts of him. She just waltzed right up to him, nose to nose, and called him out.
It was...humbling.
His gruff exterior didn’t hide a thing from her. Tuesday saw right to the bone in a way that only someone else who’d been out on the edge of their own inner darkness could do.
He shook his head and turned on his heel to face her. She’d gone back to the bench, giving him space to process.
“I have a lot of energy and keeping busy means I usually stay out of trouble. At first it was to do something else. Other than use. For about three months it’s all I thought about. Using and then about not using. Thinking about not using is a mental and emotional version of being drug sick.” He snorted. “You think about not thinking about it, practice not thinking about it so essentially the outline of your addiction becomes a giant mountain you have to hike around every fucking day until you figure out how to get rid of it.”
One of her brows rose regally. “So that became your obsession. Fuck thinking about heroin and not using heroin and fuck being enslaved to something that had wrecked your life. Your revenge was going to be nuking that mountain you had to dance around every day.”
He had to fist his hands to keep rooted to the spot and not stride off.
A shrug this time as she took in his reaction, knew exactly what was happening. “So you’re thinking, what the hell does she know about it?”
He sighed. Her honesty made it impossible to walk away and be a coward.”
“When Eric died I didn’t get busy, I got blank. It’s a coping mechanism to trauma. Just like being really busy is a coping mechanism. Hell yes, you’re exceptional. You’re special and unique. But you’re not so freaking special you get a pass from the emotional devastation that’s the aftermath of something like addiction. Or me from my bullshit.”
He scoffed. “I’d never compare my shit to yours. Heroin didn’t happen to me, Tuesday. I ran out after it. I used heroin like it was my fucking job.”
“It’s not my place to give you a pass for what you did. But it seems to me, you’re harsher on yourself than anyone you hurt when you were using.”
He didn’t speak, but she saw everything anyway. Ezra could watch her face and know everything she was thinking. It was fascinating and horrifying. He wanted to run away. Wanted to give her words his back but that would make him a liar and he was done with that.
What could he say to that? You should have known me then? Should have known the Ezra who nearly let his mother shoot up just to get a taste for himself?
But Tuesday wasn’t done. “So sure, you made using drugs the center of your life, but when you turned it around, you truly did that. When you turned it around, it wasn’t your job anymore. Instead of being owned by your addiction, you were done with it. You took your life back. You moved past it and you keep busy so you use all your energy in ways that don’t land you in rehab. You have a family that relies on you. Trusts you.” She looked him over. “I’d tell you that it’s been years and they’ve forgiven you and you’ve earned their trust back, but I don’t know that you’d believe me. And whatever, it’s not my job to manage your recovery. I can only tell you what I see from the outside.”
“Most of the time people tell me what I want to hear. It’s frustrating because I know they’re full of shit. Unvarnished truths are rare outside my immediate family.”
She shrugged. “I bet. I’m not your fan, Ezra. Though I do like your music a great deal. I’m not here for who you are onstage. Though I’d be a filthy liar if I denied how hot you are out there. I’m here for the real Ezra.”
He was on her in two steps, bringing her to her feet as he backed her against the trunk of a nearby tree. His mouth took hers in a kiss she opened to as eagerly as he delivered it.
She broke with a gasp when he covered her breasts with his hands. “You really do like kissing me in gardens, don’t you?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
HE KISSED HER EAR. “I really have very little willpower when it comes to you. You look so pretty and the light hits you just right and all I know is that I want you.”
“I aim to please,” she gasped out.
He stepped back with a pained groan. “Inside. We could be interrupted and God knows I’d never be able to get enough therapy if my mother stumbled into this scene.”
