Night Shift 2(11)

Dylan Reeves’s stomach roiled with nausea with each bump and sway of the pickup. He dropped his head into his hands to try to still the motion. God, his fucking head hurt, and his father’s constant scolding from the driver’s seat wasn’t helping to relieve the throbbing pain.

“I said I’m sorry,” Dylan mumbled.

Jesus, his old man could go on and on. He’d had his ass chewed on for the last twenty minutes, since his father had picked him up. Didn’t his dad realize he knew exactly what the fuck waited on him at home? This so wasn’t the time for another you’re-a-father-now-grow-the-fuck-up lectures. He’d heard it all before. Yeah, he needed to fix his shit, but he was so damned confused. Things had spiraled, and he didn’t even know where to begin to get his shit in order.

“This is the last time I’m bailin’ you out of jail. No more. We didn’t raise you to act like this. Teri and those babies need you to man up. You made this mess; now grow up and take responsibility for what you’ve done.” His father’s voice boomed as he banged his fist against the steering wheel of the late-model Chevy pickup to drive his point home.

Dylan struggled to push the effects of the lingering hangover aside and refused to give in to his stomach’s queasy demands. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair, then down his face. At least this time he wasn’t going to have to deal with all the annoying questions his family always managed to throw his way. They were past the point of caring about why he did what he did. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see his life had started spinning way out of control.

His father pulled off the main road into the parking lot of an older office complex. On an early Sunday morning, the place was pretty deserted, all except for a few cars parked out front.

“There’s an AA meetin’ on the second floor.” His father pointed to the front doors of the building. His gaze followed his old man’s finger, and even then, it took him a minute to realize his father expected him to go inside. “When you’re done, walk to our house. We’ve got the kids. Teri had to go to work early this mornin’. You didn’t go home like you were supposed to, so she brought ’em to us.”

Dylan stared at the building, then swung his head back to his father, waiting a heartbeat to see if his pop was serious about the AA meeting.

“Get out of my truck. And if you don’t go to the meetin’, don’t bother asking us for help anymore. We’re done with bailin’ you out of jail and dealin’ with everything you keep fuckin’ up. Now, get out.” His father’s words echoed with such command they left no room for argument. Dylan reluctantly opened the truck door and stepped out on the pavement. How could he explain to his father that he didn’t need AA?

What he had to do was grow a fucking spine. He took one last look over his shoulder as he shut the truck door. The heart he thought he’d buried years ago made its presence known by dropping to his feet at the disgust he saw written all over his father’s face. That was the exact look he’d tried to escape all these years.

Dammit to hell. He was such a fucking coward. He started for the building, daring one last look over his shoulder. His father sat in the truck, watching him go.

Suddenly, the meeting seemed so much better than the disappointment staring back at him. Shame had him quickening his stride toward the office complex. He was so caught up in his thoughts he barely registered the sounds of the old truck exiting the parking lot. He pulled open the door and stepped inside. A deep sigh escaped as he gave into the defeat and followed the arrow up the stairs to the AA meeting.



Dylan sat in the back of the room still wearing last night’s dirty, wrinkled clothing. He crossed his arms over his chest, slouched down in his chair, and focused his gaze on the patterned linoleum flooring. Compared to everyone else in the room, he looked like shit and probably smelled even worse—that was what spending the night drunk and partying so hard it resulted in a jail stay would do for you. The guilt and dread coiled deep in the pit of his stomach. He had fucked up everything in his life. His pop was right.

Thankfully, there weren’t too many members at this meeting. The ones that were there had finally stopped with their warm greetings and kind attempts to get him to talk. He sat stoically, arms crossed over his chest, feet kicked out in front of him, completely unengaged while trying to ignore the intensely foul taste of stale alcohol in his mouth.

Dylan sat on that hard metal chair, listening to people drone on and on, the whole time thinking about his life and the lie he’d been living. His head pounded so hard it made him sick. Something had to give.

Fuck this! He didn’t need this meeting. The parting look his father had given was more than enough to straighten his shit out.

His frown turned to a scowl as resolve firmly set in. If his parents were going to carry shame about him, it wouldn’t be because he was a loser who abandoned his wife and kids to hide in a bottle. His parents were good people who lived a decent life. They didn’t deserve that from their son. Hell, they had even taken a second mortgage on their house to give him a chance to get through college and look at how he’d repaid them. He was screwing up everybody’s life. His parents’, Teri’s, his kids’. All because he was a pussy and drinking was way easier than facing the truth.

He was done with letting everyone down. His mind was made up: no more. He was the only one who could decide his life’s path, and he’d done one hell of a bang-up job of it lately. The self-loathing had to stop. If he could change, he would, but he had to face the facts, this was who he was as a man, no matter how difficult it would be for anyone to deal with, including himself. And he was a man, which meant he needed to start acting like one.

Realistically, it would take some time to prove to everyone that he’d straightened his shit out. Dylan doubted anyone would believe he had it in him to turn his life around, but that didn’t matter. He was done hiding, done feeling so mixed up and out of control, done dragging his family through all of this mess without giving them any clues to the truth. Giving up drinking was easy; regaining the respect of his family would be the absolute hardest part in all of this. Whatever. He’d made up his mind. He’d do whatever it took to fix this.

Instead of the dreadful pattern on the linoleum, the sweet, smiling faces of his little babies filled his mind. He cringed internally as he thought of the guilt he carried where they were concerned. The life he had been subjecting them to almost brought tears to his eyes. His father had been right; he’d been out of control for a while. Teri and the babies were truly his pride and joy. Dylan loved his children more than anything—another thing he was certain no one in his life would believe.

He rose from his seat, unintentionally interrupting the tempo of the speaker. The disruption caused every eye to turn his way as he threaded his way through rows of chairs to leave the room. Once out in the hall, Dylan bypassed the elevator he hadn’t even noticed before and took the stairs down to the first floor.

He had a plan, and he wouldn’t let anything stop him. He shoved through the front doors of the building, the doors clanging as metal met brick. The bright sunshine seemed different, almost freeing. His soul sure as hell felt a little lighter.

With a deep, cleansing breath, Dylan allowed the emotion of the moment to wash over him. Today would be the start of a new chapter in their lives. His lingering hangover faded to a mild annoyance. His entire attitude changed as he formulated his plan while walking to his parents’ home. He’d grown up on these streets, traveled these roads his entire life, but somehow, this morning, they appeared transformed. A few minutes into his journey, he began a slow jog. The uneasy sickness he’d felt even before last night’s bender fled with each step he took. He’d forgotten how much he liked to jog—something he hadn’t done since he’d started college. His head cleared, his heart opened, and his resolve grew stronger.

Chloe, Cate, and Chad would be good with his parents for another hour or two. Right now, he needed to talk to Teri. It was time for the truth. He was going to do what he should have been man enough to do years ago…come clean.





2





Huffing hard, Dylan took the steps two at a time up to the restaurant where Teri worked. He ignored the disapproving stares of the customers waiting along the walkway for a table. It was Sunday morning, church day, and most patrons wore their Sunday best. Besides last night’s rumpled clothing and smelling of stale alcohol, he now could factor in his profuse sweat to the qualities of his appearance. Dylan didn’t let that deter him as he went for the front doors, pushing them open wide. He’d never allow his secret to control him again. Walking through the foyer, Dylan ran his fingers through soaked hair and rubbed his hands down the front of the shirt, trying to make himself a little more presentable.

He started at one end of the restaurant and swept his gaze through the room to locate Teri. He registered the stares he got from patrons and staff. Funny, he might look like hell, but he felt better than he had in years. Surprisingly, he wasn’t even a bit nervous as he rounded the hostess stand. On the far end of the restaurant, he spotted Teri working behind the wait station. As he walked toward her, he took in her “rode hard and put up wet” appearance. Had she been out late last night too? The best he could tell, she’d obviously managed her good time a little better than he had.