Except Kacey.
Kacey was every good memory he had in his whole damn life, but then he did the dumb-ass thing of letting her go. Letting go of the light in his life. Another bad choice. As he walked back to the closet they said was his room, each bad choice he’d made stared back at him and he hated it. It was like he was living a lie. Everything he did wasn’t what he wanted, and most of the time all he thought about was drinking. How pathetic. He couldn’t name one good thing in his life at that moment. No, wait, his game was good when he actually got to play it. But off the ice, what did he have?
Nothing except his Jack.
Fuck. Maybe he was an alcoholic.
Man, that therapist had really gotten to him because all he could do was think of his life thus far. He hated the pain he’d caused people, the people he’d lied to, and most of all, the love he’d thrown back in so many people’s faces. He honestly didn’t understand why Karson was still his friend. He was the only one who stood strong beside him, no matter what. For the first year of their friendship, all Jordie did was drink and Karson was the one picking him up to take him home. Covering up why he didn’t go to practice. It took a month of that before Karson shook him hard and told him to clean it up before he didn’t make the draft, something they both wanted. So he did, but that only lasted until he was in the NHL. Then most the time he slept because he was so tired, only binge drinking on the weekend.
Then there were three years that Jordie ignored Karson’s calls. All because he called Karson on a drunken night and spilled the beans about everything. The rape, Robbie’s murder, and all the other craptastic things that he had done. The nights when he would make himself puke just to get the alcohol out of him so that he could get on the ice the next morning. Or how he would sell his roommate’s things to get money for booze.
Shit, he was an alcoholic.
Slamming his door, he wobbled over to his bed and slowly lifted his leg onto the mattress. It was rehabbing great but, for some reason, being here, the pain was overwhelming. Since he was trying to prove that he wasn’t an addict, he was forgoing his pain meds, though he still craved a drink. Just a small one, something to take the edge off. Closing his eyes tightly, he shook his head.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
Before he could analyze anymore, his phone rang. Not looking at where he was grasping on his nightstand, he finally took his phone in his hand and brought it out so he could see who was calling.
It was Karson.
Hitting Talk, he brought it to his ear. “What’s up, bro?”
“Hey, how ya doing?” he asked in his carefree way. Karson had the life. Beautiful wife, great home, and a baby on the way. The American dream. Something that, at this point, Jordie was convinced he couldn’t have.
“This day has quickly gone to shit,” he admitted as he closed his eyes. Karson, Lacey, Elli, and her husband Shea were the only ones who knew he was in rehab. Like everyone promised, it was very quiet. No one knew he was here, and he wanted to keep it that way. This place was for failures, people who couldn’t get their shit together, and he didn’t want to seem that weak.
Jordie Thomas was not fucking weak.
“The damn therapist is on me like you wouldn’t believe. Wanting me to open up and shit.”
“Couldn’t hurt you,” Karson suggested. “Maybe it could help?”
“Eh, I don’t know,” Jordie grumbled as he rolled to his side. “I just want out.”
“I know, man. We want you home, but you gotta get better.”
“I’m fine.”
He didn’t answer right away, and Jordie knew it was because he didn’t agree. “Are you trying?”
“Not at all,” Jordie admitted and Karson let out a long breath.
“Man, I need you to.”
“I know, so does everyone else. But I’m fine, really.”
“No, really,” Karson stressed, and Jordie’s brow came up.