“The important thing now is that you’re safe, Morgan.”
“But he came for me.”
“He may have come here looking for you, but he’ll never get to you. You don’t have to worry. You’ll never have a conversation with the man again. This is my promise to you. Grant and I will love and protect you until…”
“Until you decide you don’t want me again?” she asked, bowing her head, studying her clasped hands.
“It was never like that and you know it. We were young. I was stupid. We both had our share of dreams. I wasn’t sure how mine meshed with yours or yours flowed with mine.”
“You left me.”
“I always planned to come back. You know that.”
“You didn’t return soon enough.”
“You…” Blake stopped talking all at once. Oh no, he wasn’t playing this game. This was the addict’s way. He’d known several, read about plenty. Their addiction was always someone else’s fault, someone else’s problem—rarely would they own their mistakes, claim the bad choices they’d made.
“You what?” she pressed.
They also thrived on making those around them feel guilty as well.
Blake cupped her chin, tilting her face toward his. “You had Grant, Morgan. You loved Grant, just as much as you loved me. And you still chose drugs over love.”
“That’s not true.”
“Morgan, it is. You need to start accepting responsibility for what you’ve done. Your brothers fought for you. They tried their best to make you see what you were doing to yourself. You refused their help. You turned your back on your friends and family. They never abandoned you.”
“You act like I asked for this addiction by name!”
“Didn’t you?” he accused. “Did someone hold you down and force you to take pills? Did they shove a pipe between your lips or stick a needle in your arm?”
She glared at him like she hated him then. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Good,” he said firmly. “Because while I’m willing to help you because I love you, I will never accept that you progressed from casual use to addiction blindly. You knew what you were doing. You didn’t care. You were too selfish to think about the consequences. Well, we’ve all heard about poor Morgan. Now, let me tell you the rest of the story.”
* * * *
Maybe Morgan needed to hear his side, but she felt somewhat slighted since he didn’t seem interested in learning more about her story first.
Still, she made up her mind. She’d listen. She’d pay attention. Maybe she owed them that.
Blake paced the floor, rubbing his splayed fingers through his hair. “There wasn’t a day that passed that someone didn’t mention your name, attend an event where you were missed, or just make a comment about the future, a future all of us hoped you would enjoy with your family and friends.
“Many tears were shed. Hours were spent worrying after endless days of trying to find you. Finally, when no one could bear the pain anymore, we all agreed to let you go.
“We mourned you, grieved as if we’d endured your death, but finally decided if we were going to live full lives, we had to move on.”
“Sounds like you’d already decided to cut me out of your life completely.” That knowledge stung.
“You left us no other choice. Remember, you’re the one who chose to use. We didn’t make that decision for you, and we certainly didn’t want to lose sight of our goals and dreams because of the stupid choices you made.”
“You act as if I purposefully tried to hurt you.”
“Didn’t you? Weren’t you taught to make decisions for yourself? Weren’t you taught to say no to drugs? Didn’t you know better?”
“I don’t want to talk about this!” she screamed. “Why don’t you admit I ruined your life?”
He frowned. “Drug addicts are self-centered, Morgan. I’ve never met one who wasn’t. As much as you might like to think you had the power to ruin our lives, you didn’t. Does that mean I don’t love you? No, of course not. At the same time, you have to realize, I was given one life. I’m in control of how I choose to live that life and I refuse to let you or anyone else dictate how or where I can find happiness.”
“Do you even love me?” she asked, feeling as if he were talking down to her.
“You know I do. The question is, do you still have the ability to love me—or anyone else for that matter—in return?”
* * * *
Grant was standing over Kilo when he awoke. He’d promised the attending physician, a personal friend of his, that he wouldn’t assault him again. Kilo, for whatever reason, hadn’t pressed charges. When the cops arrived at the Keesling place, Kilo told them he’d fallen from a large oak tree.