PROLOGUE
XANDER
Over a year earlier . . .
I had no idea what it felt like to be dead, but I was starting to wonder if I’d died and was paying for my life on Earth in the depths of Hell.
Every muscle in my body was twitching and burning with pain, and I couldn’t control the thoughts—or maybe they were memories—bouncing around in my brain. I tried to open my eyes, but it was too damn painful, so I was stuck with the images I couldn’t make go away.
I could remember how badly I’d needed my fix, and how I’d gone to some low-life drug dealer to get the heroin. I’d gotten home and mixed up the injectable version of the drug, unwilling to settle for the effects of smoking or snorting it. I’d been so damn desperate that I had to have immediate relief.
I’d found the vein, and recalled the feeling of intense relief once the drug almost immediately hit my system.
After that, most of what happened was a blank until the damn paramedics had given me the mother of all shocks to my system . . . the opiate antidote.
Shit! I hated that medication. It had ended my oblivion, shocked my body back to being alert and hurting again.
How could those fuckers spoil my high?
“You almost died this time, Xander. What in the hell were you thinking?” a husky male voice muttered at my bedside.
I recognized the voice. It wasn’t my brother Micah who was here with me this time. It was Julian. What in the hell was he doing here? My middle sibling should have been out on a movie shoot. He wasn’t supposed to be back here in California.
I forgot all about what brother had come to be with me for this particular overdose. It didn’t matter. There had been plenty of others before this one, and Micah almost always was the one who bailed me out of trouble.
Unfortunately, my brain wasn’t that functional, and all I could really think about was the intense pain of withdrawal.
Fuck! All I needed was to be high, and for everybody to leave me the hell alone. I wanted to forget my life and live in a world where all I needed to do was to get my next fix.
I was a junkie, and I was pretty sure I’d already hit rock bottom, but I’d never felt the collision because I’d been too stoned to give a damn.
My body started to shiver, and the pounding pain in my muscles traveled to my head. I hurt fucking everywhere, all because some asshole had decided to bring me back to reality.
Fuck reality! It was something I’d been trying to escape from for several years now.
“Xander! Can you hear me?” Julian asked in an urgent tone.
“Yeah. Now shut up,” I insisted in a graveled voice, knowing from experience that talking was only going to make the pain worse.
“This is bullshit,” Julian said angrily. “Why didn’t I know that you were an addict?”
I opened my eyes painfully from the hospital bed and tried to focus on my brother. “Because Micah usually comes when something happens,” I answered flatly, not caring who knew I needed drugs to survive.
I’d tried alcohol to dull the pain after my parents had been murdered and I’d pulled through my own injuries. But it wasn’t working as well as it used to, and I preferred the total oblivion of drugs. I wasn’t averse to drinking, but it took several pints of hard alcohol these days to forget who I was and what had happened.
Honestly, I’d really rather have had the prescription medications I’d taken for so long after my injuries three years ago, but the doctor finally decided I had to stop taking them, and refused any further prescriptions. Since then, I’d bought them on the street. When I got really desperate, I had to mix up heroin. Today had been one of those “desperate” days. Or had it been last night? Hell, I had no idea how much time had passed, but what did it matter?
“You have to stop this shit, Xander,” Julian said fiercely. “Hell, you used to hate drugs. I remember you telling me how many of your rocker friends were using, and you used to think it was moronic. What happened to you?”
I looked at his anxious expression with a twinge of remorse. Yeah, I used to hate doping. “That was in another life,” I answered.
“It’s the same damn life. The only one you have,” Julian said as he brought his fist down on the bed rail. “And it’s still idiotic.”
“Maybe I don’t give a damn anymore. Just go. Get the fuck out of here. I never asked for anybody to come,” I answered angrily.
“I’m not going anywhere until you’re out of here,” he said stubbornly. “Then, I’m taking you back east with me where you can get your shit together. They have a rehab—”
“I’m not doing rehab again,” I growled at him, the pain of substance withdrawal clawing at every part of my body. “Why the hell can’t you and Micah just leave me alone? Micah’s involved with somebody, and you’re both happy. Go back east and let me have my goddamn freedom.”
Julian shot me a disappointed look that made me momentarily cringe as he answered, “I may not like you right now, but you’re still my little brother. You’re going with me.”
“I’m not,” I argued hoarsely.
“What’s here in California for you? You have no family here, and probably very few friends. You aren’t recording or performing again, so why do you need to stay here?”
So I can be stoned every day without anybody watching while I practically crawl to a place where I can get my next fix.
“Because I own a house here,” I argued. “It’s home.”
“Don’t give me that crap. The Sinclairs have property everywhere, and you have a home in Amesport, too. A house that Micah had built for you.”
“Told him not to bother,” I answered, not realizing that my eldest brother had followed through on his promise to bring all three of us together again by building us homes in some boring, small town on the Eastern Seaboard.
Julian was silent for a few moments before he took a deep breath and released it. “You’re an asshole. You know that, right?”
I shrugged. I didn’t much care what anybody thought about me anymore, not even my brothers.
He continued, “Micah is with somebody, and he’s fucking happy. For the first time in his life, I see him smile almost every damn day. He doesn’t deserve to have that joy smothered by your sorry ass. Clean your shit up, Xander. Whether you know it or not, this situation affects all of us.”
“It’s my life!”
“You’re our brother. You think Micah and I can actually be happy when we know you’re on the other side of the country trying to kill yourself? Do you know how hard it was for me and Micah when you were injured, sitting in the hospital night after night, not sure whether you were going to live or die?”
I heard Julian’s voice crack with anguish, and it was the most emotion I’d ever seen out of him in my entire life. “I’m a lost cause, Julian. Just live with it and move on.”
Honestly, I wished neither one of them would rush to California every time I did something stupid. It left me torn, and I’d hoped that Micah would finally just give up. He hadn’t. He’d just brought Julian in for backup.
“Not happening,” Julian answered stubbornly. “We aren’t giving up on you, Xander. Not ever. So live with that. We already lost Mom and Dad, and that’s as much as Micah and I can handle.”
The mention of my parents just made me want a fix, or a very large bottle of whiskey. But I had to admit that Julian’s guilt trip was getting to me. Hell, the last thing I wanted was to be responsible for making either of my brothers miserable. Did geography really matter? “Fine. I’ll go. But I’m not going to promise anything will change. I’ve been in rehab before. As you can see, I failed.”
“Do it because somewhere deep inside that selfish-prick exterior, you still give a damn about me and Micah,” Julian suggested irritably.
Problem was, I actually did care about him and my elder brother. But all I wanted was for them to just go make themselves happy. I didn’t want any part of that. I was never going to change, and they’d eventually both have to accept it. “I’m doing what you want,” I told him, annoyed that he was still giving me an admonishing look. “Just go away and let me try to go back to sleep.”
“Oh, I’ll be back,” Julian warned. “I’ll be here every damn day until you’re discharged.”
“Great,” I said sarcastically.
“See ya tomorrow, little brother,” he said with a nod, then turned around and walked out the door of my hospital room.
Anger surged up inside me, and it nearly made me forget the agony that my body was going through. I sat up and noticed my hands were shaking, and my head started to pound harder from the sudden change in position.
“Fuck you,” I called out toward the door even though Julian was long gone.
I was pissed because he and Micah couldn’t just leave me alone.
In a moment of blind rage, I picked up the hospital meal that had obviously been left here while I was sleeping. With a burst of anguished fury, I flung the entire tray against the wall, slightly appeased by the sound of breaking glass and the clanging of silverware hitting the floor.
Spent, I let myself fall back onto the pillow, knowing I was even more shattered than the plates and glasses that lay in pieces on the floor.
Julian and Micah would find out just how fucked up I was, and that nobody on this Earth was ever going to be able to put me back together again.