I’ve had thirty days to stew in my decisions, dating back to the first time I ever took my first sip of alcohol. I wasn’t like most kids who have their first drink at a party, under the influence of too many friends and not enough brain cells.
No one was around to peer pressure me into drinking. In fact, no one was around to care at all. My brothers were always busy doing their own things and my father was rarely home before nine o’clock., which meant no one was there to intervene.
That first night, I drank because I was angry at myself for missing a goal and losing the game for my team.
The next week, I drank because my father called me a stupid fuck for failing a test.
The time after that, it was the anniversary of my mom’s death.
Slowly, drinking became a way to numb the problems. To drown out the noise until I was better able to cope with the stressors around me. Except the time to cope never came. When I was presented with adversity, I ran and repeated the same habits that got me into trouble in the first place.
I never learned from my mistakes. I was too lost in my sickness to care much beyond stopping the pain, and everyone around me, especially myself, paid the price.
Not anymore though. I will do whatever it takes to stay sober, not only for myself, but for the people I love too.
My grandpa was right. Sobriety is a journey, except to get to the final destination, I needed to suffer through a month-long turbulent plane ride with no landing strip in sight.
That’s what rehab felt like. But unlike the last time, I gave it a hundred percent because I deserved my all. I wanted to get better for myself and the future I will have once I do.
When I land in Chicago, I head straight to the AA meeting Leo recommended because I don’t have time to waste. All the chairs are positioned in a circle, exposing us to one another. I take one of the last open seats, leaving the one beside me empty.
The chairperson begins, and one by one everyone introduces themselves. It’s an intimate group made up of high-profile lawyers, executives, and professionals. I recognize a few from crossing paths at events, but no one comments on it. Because in this room, we are all the same.
Recovering alcoholics.
I’ve been through this process twice already, so I know exactly what to say when everyone turns to me.
I rise and take a deep breath. “Hi, my name is Callahan, although I prefer to go by Cal, and I’m an alcoholic.”
“Hi, Cal,” different tones and voices reply.
I ignore the urge to clench my fists. “Today is the first official day where I choose to be sober.” Rehab might have helped me start off on the right foot, but not having access to alcohol isn’t the same as choosing to be sober. At least not to me.
I want to be tempted by alcohol and resist.
I want to experience pain and overcome without a single drop of vodka.
I want to prove to myself that I can make it in the world as a sober man rather than one driven by the need to drown my emotions and insecurities with a temporary fix.
People clap like I just won the Stanley Cup.
A few more individuals introduce themselves. While one man is sharing how he is officially one-year sober, the door behind me opens. Everyone turns toward the sound.
The one person I never thought I would see at one of these meetings walks in, shaking an umbrella in one hand while juggling a briefcase in his other.
My father’s eyes connect with mine. He doesn’t look the least bit surprised to see me here, but me on the other hand?
I’m floored.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” the chairperson calls out.
I think he introduced himself as Jeff? Jim? I don’t remember much except that his job is to defend the worst criminals in all of Chicago.
No wonder the asshole drank.
“Sorry I’m late.”
Sorry I’m late? My father doesn’t apologize for shit.
Since fate couldn’t be any more of a bitch lately, he takes the only empty seat available—right next to me. I’m grateful that I look more like my mother because I’d hate for people to connect the two of us as anything more than strangers.
After all, that’s all we will ever be.
The group turns to look over at my father, and he stands with a sigh. “Hi, my name is Seth, and I’m an alcoholic. I’ve been sober for 640 days.”
What. The. Fuck.
I must have said the words aloud because everyone turns toward me with a range of expressions. My father’s soulless gaze lands on me, making my skin crawl.
“Have something to say?” His low tone is a warning similar to that of a rattlesnake.
“Plenty, starting with why?”
“For the same reason you’re probably here.” He takes a seat and unbuttons the front of his sports coat.
Brady motherfucking Kane.
If my grandfather weren’t dead already, I would have made sure he didn’t live to see tomorrow.
I spend the rest of the meeting processing his reason for being here. Grandpa must have wanted him to get sober in exchange for something, but what? Six percent of the company? Twenty-five billion dollars?
Yet he didn’t ask you to get sober. Just him.
I can’t fathom why my grandfather would go through all that trouble of emphasizing the importance of sobriety being a journey, only to force my father into attending AA.
It doesn’t matter. If I earn my shares, then the math will never be in his favor regardless if he earns six percent or not.
I mull over every detail, searching for clues over the last two years, only to be drawn back into the meeting by the chip person slapping a chip into my hand.
“Congratulations on being sober for twenty-four hours.” The person in charge of passing out chips based on everyone’s level of sobriety continues on to the next person.
I spend the rest of the meeting flipping the chip between my fingers. It’s not until the metal legs of chairs scrape against the floor that I look up to find a majority of the members have already left.
My father rises from his seat, completely ignoring me.
“Did you ever want to get sober before the will?” I ask the question that has been festering in the back of my brain.
His beady eyes drill a hole into my head. “I never had a reason to.”
The piercing sensation in my chest intensifies. “Not a single one?”
“No,” he says in a flat tone.
“What about your kids?”
“What about them?”
To think you actually believed you were similar to this man.
In reality, the only thing my father and I have in common is an addiction. Because where he finds his family expendable, I find mine irreplaceable. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to ensure I make them happy, which is something he couldn’t even begin to understand, let alone reciprocate.
“Why did you drink?” I blurt out before I have a chance to filter my question.
“Because I didn’t know how to stop.”
“And now you do?”
“I was heavily motivated to learn.”
“Because of money.” I don’t bother tampering down the disgust in my voice.
“Who are you to judge? It’s not like you’re any better than me.” He gives me a once-over glance that would make anyone else feel two inches tall.
“I’m here because I want to be.”
“Because of money.” He repeats my same words back to me.
I shake my head and stand. “Because I’m worth the effort.”
His quick glance couldn’t be more dismissive if he tried. “Are you sure about that?”
A bitter laugh explodes out of me. “You have always found me to be lacking, but I have something you never will have.”
“A heart?” His mocking smirk deserves to be punched.
“A life worth living.” I walk away. The heaviness pressing against my chest lessens with each step in the opposite direction.
“I have a life worth living,” he calls out with an air of desperation bleeding into his voice.
“Then enjoy it while it lasts.”
Once Declan becomes CEO and we all earn our shares of the company, my father will become the one thing he spent his entire life making sure I felt.
Insignificant.
I wait until I get in my car to call Lana. I’m not optimistic about her answering, but I hold my breath.
The pit in my stomach only stretches with each ring. My finger hovers over the red end call button, but I stop myself at the sound of her voice.
“Cal?” Lana’s slight rasp tugs at my chest.
God. I missed the sound of her voice.
“Lana.”
“You’re out,” she says before a door shuts on her end of the call.
“Yeah. Just left this morning.”
“How was it?”
“The closest I ever hope to get to jail.”
Her laugh is soft yet eases the tension in my shoulders better than any massage.
“How are you?” I ask before thinking against it.
“Fine.”
“And how’s our girl?”
The silence following my question is unbearable, but I refrain from filling it. There is nothing I won’t do to show her that I want her and Cami, even if it means reminding her every chance I get.
Lana releases a heavy breath. “She misses you.”
My chest tightens. “How about you?” It’s a stupid question, yet I can’t stop myself from asking it.
“I’ve missed you too.” She whispers it like a dirty confession.
I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear those words from her until she said them.
“I plan on coming home.”
“When?” Her voice has a certain edge to it.
“I’m not sure.” I bite down on my tongue. Until I have my shit sorted out, I don’t want to return because Lana deserves better than that. She deserves the best I have to offer, and a twenty-four-hour sobriety chip isn’t going to cut it.
“Then why call?”
“Because I wanted to let you know that I’m going to find a way to make everything right.” Post-rehab me is motivated by a single goal: show Lana and Cami that I will spend the rest of my life proving how much I love them.
“That’s all?”
“And that I love you,” I add.
She sighs.
My grip on the phone tightens. “Just give me time to fix this, okay?”
Her steady breathing fills the silence.
“Okay,” she says before the line goes dead.
“You’re back!” Iris throws her arms around my neck and cries.
The moment I texted the family chat saying I was back in Chicago, Iris replied that she was on her way with Declan.
I peel her off me and take a good look at her face. “Are you crying?”
“Yes. I can’t help it.” She wipes at her face with frustration. “It just happens.”
I shoot Declan a what the fuck look. He only shrugs as if this happens all the time.
Wait a minute… Declan would never brush off Iris’s tears like that without a good reason—
“You’re pregnant.” The words fly out of my mouth.
She nods with a few tears streaming down her face.
“Holy shit. Congratulations!” I pull her back into a hug.
“Since when?” I look over Iris’s head at my brother.
“We found out a week after you left.”
“I wanted to tell you, but you weren’t here.” Iris’s tears soak through my shirt.
“She was very upset about that. Cried for what felt like a day,” Declan mutters.
“This is doing wonders for my ego.”
Iris slaps my chest with a laugh. “I’m emotional.”
“Yeah, an emotional wreck,” I finish for her.
She pushes against my chest, and I release her.
Her nose wrinkles. “You smell like an airplane.”
“Probably because I just landed a few hours ago and haven’t had a chance to shower yet.”
Declan pulls Iris away from me and into his embrace. “How was rehab?”
“Like a party, except no one wants to be there.”
“Sounds like a typical Friday for me.” Declan’s lips twitch.
Iris’s eyes roll.
“Did you get the chip?” Declan asks.
I pull it out of my pocket to show him. “That and a nice conversation with our father.”
Declan’s brows tug together. “Our father?”
“Turns out whatever inheritance he has is contingent on him attending AA meetings too.”
My brother drops on to the leather sofa. “Shit.”
“Isn’t that…triggering?” Iris sits down next to Declan and clasps his hand.
I shrug. “I spent thirty days getting over my daddy issues.”
“And?”
“Turns out the only person I was hurting is myself, and safe to say masochism isn’t my kink anymore.”
Declan’s smile is small but powerful. “Teach me your ways.”
“Oh, you can plan on it once I get Lana back.” Until then, nothing else matters.
“What do you think your grandpa offered him?” Iris asks.
“There’s still six percent of the company left uncontested.”
“I knew Grandpa wouldn’t let him walk away with nothing. He always had a soft spot for that piece of shit.” Declan rubs at his stubble while staring off into the distance.
“We’ll figure it out.” I pull out my phone. “Are either of you hungry? I was thinking about ordering delivery.”
“Wait. You’re staying?” Iris frowns.
“I still have a few things to sort out before I head back to Lake Wisteria.”
“Like what?”
“How the hell I’m going to get to keep the lake house.” I already spoke with the real estate agent and told him to hold off on accepting any offers, so it’s only a matter of time before I figure out a solution.
Declan’s frown deepens. “You can’t keep it.”
“I have a meeting with Leo tomorrow to see otherwise.”
His chest falls from his heavy exhale. “And if he tells you that it’s impossible?”
“Then I’ll find a way to prove him wrong.”
“Cal…”
“What?”
Declan leans forward on his elbows. “You don’t need to come up with a solution on your own. We’re here for you.”
The pressure in my chest releases like a popped balloon. “Don’t go all soft on me now that I’m sober.”
His lips twitch. “Asshole.”
“That’s more I like it.”
Iris’s glassy eyes make me laugh.
“Seriously? You’re crying again?”
She sniffles. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just so sweet to see you two getting along and being all brotherly.”
I fake heave while Declan glowers, restoring the balance between us once more.
Iris and Declan keep me company during my first night back from rehab. Unlike before, I’m not plagued with heavy loneliness I want to drown with alcohol. Instead, I enjoy my time with them, all while reminding myself that I too can have what they have.
So long as I put in the work.
