Chapter Two
AROUND KNOXVILLE, TN, he decided to stop. He was drained, physically and emotionally. He didn’t have anything even approaching a plan. He wasn’t really paying attention to where he was going, and he would probably get someone killed, driving seventy down the interstate, if he pushed himself to go any farther.
With a few commands, the onboard computer found him a Motel 6 off I-40, and he went for it. Despite his upbringing, he’d seen the inside of more than a few cheap motels on the hunt for some D, although he’d never actually stayed a full night in one. He’d have to get used to it from now on, it seemed.
The bedspreads were slippery polyester and the carpet was gross, but the sheets were stiff enough to have been well bleached, and all he needed was a flat surface to collapse onto as soon as he got drunk enough to pass out. That was the sum total of the plan he’d been able to come up with so far… well, that and getting a pizza delivered so he wouldn’t starve. He’d have to pay for that bit of cheating at the gym later, but he didn’t have the energy to find someplace with a decent salad, and what better way to drown his sorrows than to glut?
Luckily, he’d had enough sense to grab his laptop and tablet when he’d packed up his things, and his Netflix and Prime memberships were already paid for, so he didn’t have to rely on the dubious television choices available through the hotel. The Wi-Fi was weak at best, but he was able to find something distracting until the Jameson he’d picked up at the liquor store across from the hotel kicked in.
“To my glorious future,” he said to his reflection in the mirror across from the bed, before downing another big swallow from the bottle.
He didn’t remember much after that.
SUNLIGHT RHYTHMICALLY stabbed through his eyelids from the gaps in the swaying vertical blinds over the air conditioner. With a groan, he rolled to an upright position and braced himself for the pain. Racing to the bathroom, he emptied his stomach until all he could do was dry heave, but he was grateful for the hangover. Vomiting up the pizza meant he wouldn’t have to worry as much about that trip to the gym—when he found a gym he could afford. And the hammering in his skull meant he couldn’t think about much of anything beyond coffee, Tylenol, and a long shower.
Win-win.
The shower had to come first because he wasn’t so bad off that he was willing to settle for the tiny coffeepot and sachet of Maxwell House in the room. He might be poor now, but he still had standards. He had to go out for the Tylenol anyway.
This time he found a Starbuck’s and splurged on a Venti Caramel Macchiato, although with half the syrup. He hadn’t completely lost his mind.
Sitting in the parking lot, watching people come and go, he tried not to think about anything until he’d drained the last drop from the paper cup. But all too soon, it was empty, and he couldn’t put it off any longer. He had to come up with some sort of plan, and the idea of “The Rest of His Life!” was almost overwhelming.
The problem was, he’d been pretending to be someone else for so long, he didn’t even know who he was anymore—if he ever had. He was free now, but free to do what? It wasn’t as if he’d ever been really good at anything, not good enough anyway. Having a rich father had opened a lot of doors for him that he never would’ve been able to open on his own. Could he survive on his own merits?
A little flutter of panic started in his belly as people with places to go and things to do continued to pass by him.
Oh God.
He might’ve just thrown his whole life away for nothing. He’d stood in his dad’s office and demanded they accept him for who he was when he didn’t even know himself. What was he thinking?
Drama queen.
The words caught him up short before he headed toward a total freak-out in a public place where everyone could see. Clenching his jaw, he lifted his chin and forced the panic down with a few carefully controlled breaths.
He’d made the right choice. His planning and execution could have used some work, but the decision was right. He had to believe that. His old life, all those expectations, had been crushing him. He never would have been able to keep it up without losing his shit entirely.
“So what do I do now?”
He didn’t expect an answer from his reflection in the rearview, but some sort of sign would’ve been helpful.
About to give up and just hit the road again without a plan—hoping inspiration would strike somewhere along the way—he jumped when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Frowning, he fished it out. He could’ve sworn he’d turned off notifications for pretty much everything last night. The usual barrage from Instagram and Snapchat, plus texts from friends who’d never really been friends, had been compounded by numerous texts from his siblings, until he just couldn’t take it anymore and shut everything off—especially since none of the texts from his family were from his mother or father or included any words like come home or we love you.
“What the hell did you do now?” pretty much summed up all the messages from his older brother, Will Jr., and “What’s going on? Why doesn’t anybody tell me anything?” was about all his little sister, Gemma, had to contribute.
This time the notification on the screen was a calendar reminder he’d put in months ago.
July 16: Call mom re: B STAR trip
Today he was supposed to give his mom an answer about whether he’d be joining her for a week at the rescue ranch that was one of his family’s pet charities for as long as he could remember. She’d planned the trip during one of her empty-nest moments, now that Gemma had started college, as a bonding experience for the two of them. He’d kind of blown her off at the time and then totally forgotten about it.
Staring at the screen, he choked up a little, despite being pissed at his mom for not even trying to stand up for him. He wouldn’t be making that call. They wouldn’t be bonding over anything anytime soon… maybe not ever.
“Fuck!”
He threw his phone on the passenger seat and thumped his head on the steering wheel. He would not cry in public. He would not cry in public.
He took deep breaths until the need faded. Then he grabbed the phone again and worried his lower lip.
Some of his happiest memories from childhood were from the B STAR. It was one of the few actual “family” vacations they took together. He couldn’t remember why his parents had stopped going, especially given the size of the check they still wrote the place every year and the fundraising his mother did on their behalf. Maybe the “kids” had just gotten too old for it.
The name stood for Better the Second Time Around Rescue, and as he stared at the letters on the screen, his lips began to curve up for the first time in days.
He’d asked for a sign. What better place to go to figure things out than a home for the unloved and unwanted… his very own island of misfit toys?
It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it was a place to start. He’d been around horses his whole life. He knew his way around a stable, at least enough to be useful. Texas was a long drive, but he could feel the weight on his chest lifting the more he thought about it. He had a plan, somewhere to go, somewhere with nothing but fond memories and plenty of work to keep him out of his head for a while. It was like fate had thrown him a lifeline.
“Perfect.”
Scanning through his phone until he found the address, he started the engine again. After putting it into the navigation system, his phone connected to Bluetooth, and he cranked up his road-trip playlist. With a deep breath and a silent prayer, he joined the stream of bustling humanity and headed for the highway.