and bitter cold. And during all those moments I can’t help but miss you to the point of not being able to breathe because you’re not here to hold me. Will I ever stop needing you so much?
Please don’t forget me.
Love,
Abby
Seven
Wes
My hands grip the cold glass of water in my hands, my eyes swivel toward the back of my head in a stress headache. I sigh as the walls become like those in a fun house, changing shape in the blink of an eye. My breath carries the stench of alcohol that enters my nostrils, and my mouth is sore from the amount of alcohol I poured down my throat.
There’s a knock at my door. I clear my throat as I stand up, only to fall back down on the chair in an unbalanced attempt to walk to the door. Maybe I should tell whoever is on the other side either to fuck off or just open the door. I try to stand again, but the door opens before I can move.
“You’re drunk,” Sterling says as he enters my office.
“What gave it away?” I slur my words, staring at Abby’s last letter.
The envelope is sealed. I’m afraid to open it.
“Anita called me.” He tilts his head toward her office.
“I should fire her.”
“What are you doing with your life?”
Fuck if I know.
“She almost died.” I wave the envelope.
He has no idea what it’s like to live with the pain of knowing that you almost lost the one person who means everything to you. I did, and now that she’s far away, I have no fucking idea how to put one foot in front of the other. The life I’m living is not what I want, and I’m trying to fix it, but every time I go to the therapist some new trauma comes up. How do I fucking feel about being abandoned?
The truth is, the abandonment of my birth parents doesn’t hurt as much as the fucked-up relationship I had with my adoptive father. He loved me, but I’ll never know if it was just because I did what he said, or because I was his son. My mother leaving after he died hurt. It’s like we didn’t matter once she lost her husband. I resent Mom. If she had told me about Abby’s abusive history, I could’ve done so much more before Shaun and Corbin found her.
I comb my hands through my hair. Because of me, Abigail Lyons is trying to rebuild her life, just like the doctor had to reconstruct her hands.
“Abby would be so disappointed if she knew what you’re doing to yourself.”
I glare at him.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” my brother insists. “The fucking asshole who abused her and almost killed her is to blame.”
“If I hadn’t been at the office,” I yell. “I knew she was in danger. And yet, I had to check on that fucking IPO that’s worth shit.”
He sighs shaking his head and glaring at me.
“Weston, I can’t believe that I’m saying this, but you’re no longer the CEO of this company. I’m going to have to take over until you get your fucking shit straightened out.”
“Are you going to sculpt around the office?” I laugh. He has no idea how to run this place.
Sterling never gave a shit about the company. I had to sacrifice my life to be the person Dad wanted.
“It was your choice,” my brother slams the desk. “I told you several times to stop, but you didn’t. It fucking hurt that he never approved of me, but at least I’m satisfied with my life. Now, I’m going to put it on hold while you get your shit together.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I give a damn about you. I love you,” he says. “I hired people who know what to do and who are sober.”
“You can’t take this away from me…” my voice falters. “It’s the only thing I have left.”
“Mom worries about you.” Sterling says.
“You told her?”
“No, but you haven’t answered her calls,” he says.
I bury my head in my hands. This nightmare is worse than the ones I’ve been having lately. At least those come to an end. This one’s just beginning.
“What do I do?”
Sterling crosses his arms, sighing. “It’s been almost a year, Weston. You have to pick up the pieces and pull yourself together.”
I stare at his shoes through the gap between my hands. “I have no fucking idea how she’s doing.”
“Abby is doing well. If you’d open her letter and write to her