Flying High (Davis Brothers Book 2) Read online

  Flying High

  Davis Brothers Book 2

  By: Nicole Douglas

  Cover Art by Addendum Designs

  Copyright © 2018 Nicole Douglas

  All rights reserved. Copying this material, in part or whole, without permission from the author is not permitted. This includes, but is not limited to, photocopying, printing, selling, or rewriting this story.

  This novel is strictly fiction. No characters were based on real individuals and no places mentioned in the book are based on real cities, towns, businesses, etc.

  ☠　Chapter One ☠

  Chris

  “My name is Chris and I’m a recovering heroin addict.”

  “Hi Chris.” Voices around the room murmured in response.

  I usually stayed away from NA meetings. I always thought they were just a place for addicts to meet up and relapse together. Or at least that’s what I had used them for in the past.

  That may be an ironic and cynical thought coming from a guy that runs a substance abuse treatment center but old ways of thinking were hard to break.

  Trust me on that one. I would know.

  Today was a special occasion so I made the exception and showed up tonight. Who would have ever thought I would make it this far? I had gotten further than I ever dreamed.

  “Today makes two years since the last time I shot up. So,” I shrug awkwardly, suddenly feeling all eyes on me. “I came to get my two year chip.”

  Some may say two years wasn’t a long enough time being clean to help other addicts. To run a rehab and manage the challenges, the stress, the pressure that job brought.

  But I knew that no one could determine my course in life but me.

  Not my dad.

  Not my brother Max.

  Not heroin. Or my roommate Natalie. Or my grief from losing my mom at the hands of my dad right in front of me. Or the people in this room struggling with their own sobriety.

  Just me. My life was in my own hands and every choice I made in my past, both good and bad, had belonged to me.

  I wanted to help others get clean and change their lives. Save their lives.

  If I could find sobriety and clutch onto it in spite of everything then anyone else could too. All you had to do was want it. Want it with every beat of your heart and every breath in your lungs.

  And I did. I really fucking did.

  The last time I felt a needle pierce my skin was the day my little brother walked in on me shooting up. I hadn’t had the willpower to hold myself back.

  Pushing the needle deeper and injecting while he stood in the doorway watching in devastation was my lowest moment. That was the moment I vowed to myself to make a change.

  It was either that or I was going to end up losing my brother and slowly killing myself with the poison I craved.

  My speech is short and sweet as I accept my chip.

  Taking a seat, I listen to the rest of the meeting and reflect on my successes and failures. There had been times that I was tempted to fall back into my old ways. Any addict that said otherwise was a damn liar.

  There were times I stayed up all night craving the euphoria. Craving the heat traveling up my arm and the rush of bliss it always gave me. Staring up at the ceiling while I laid in bed thinking about the numbers of dealers I had in my old phone.

  The one I had before I changed my number, keeping only three contacts.

  Max, Lacey and Natalie were the only numbers from the past I had left. I knew damn well none of them would be helping me spiral back out of control. They weren’t going to support me in ruining my own life. That’s why I kept those and purged the rest.

  And it was a good thing I deleted the others because many nights I was desperate enough to have caved if that had been an option. I knew myself well enough in the beginning of my recovery to trash all those connections.

  All my old friends were cleansed from my life. They hadn’t been real friends anyway.

  Despite the cravings, withdraws and sleepless nights I never went back to that life in the past twenty four months no matter what. Never turned to drugs again for comfort, sleep or momentary peace.

  I didn’t take the easy way out for once and it was finally starting to pay off.

  I woke up each morning, seven hundred and thirty times in a row, choosing not to go back down that road.

  I didn’t plan on letting that streak of success change no matter how hard things got. Nothing could possibly be harder than the cold sweats and uncontrollable shakes those first couple of weeks brought me.

  People that didn’t understand thought about the psychological urges and suffering that derived from addiction. But no one paid much mind to the physical suffering that plagued my body in those early days.

  It was what pushed most people back in the arms of their drug of choice.

  That part was far behind me and I didn’t want to ever feel that way again.

  Natalie was the only person in my life that knew I was here tonight at a meeting. I didn’t want to share this experience with my brother or his girlfriend Lacey, who had slowly become like a sister to me.

  I didn’t want them to make a big deal out of it or shower me with praise.

  This was a moment reserved just for myself and the pride I took in the past two years of my life. I didn’t need a party or congratulations to appreciate that.

  Natalie was back at the apartment cooking us dinner for when I got home and that was the perfect way to end the day.

  She knew I wanted something quiet and low-key. That I didn’t like over-the-top attention. Never had.

  I knew she wouldn’t invite anyone over or make a big production out of things. Tomorrow would be business as usual at the treatment center we ran together.

  She was amazing like that. Always reading between the lines and understanding just what I needed at any given moment.

  When I needed space she left me alone. When I needed to talk she listened. When I needed something to take my mind off my stress she distracted me by dragging me out of the apartment on some crazy, spur of the moment adventure.

  I liked to think I was able to be that for her too. Her support system. Her distraction when she needed it. Her best friend in a heartless world.

  We always had that connection when we lived under my dad’s roof. We often snuck out to the backyard and went for quiet walks to get away from the madness. We would talk about any and everything in the dark of the night behind the house.

  There was a nearly overgrown trail that led to a clearing in the trees. We would meet there after everyone else in the house went to sleep and get lost in each other’s words and dreams.

  It was the only safe place to escape to back then. The only place to hide from my crazy ass dad without actually acknowledging that either of us was hiding.

  Pride was a strong thing back then for both of us. We couldn’t admit we were hurting. That we were scared or lost.

  It was just a walk. Just some fresh air and quiet space.

  Did it have anything to do with the ass beatings I knew were coming when I went back inside and crossed my dad in the hallway? Or the long night she spent being used by one man after the next?

  Fuck no. Of course not.

  It was our secret spot. No one ever knew about it and I liked having something between us that was a secret. An innocent secret.

  I didn’t have many of those.

  ☠　Chapter Two ☠

  Natalie

  “Honey. I’m home.” Chris called out jokingly when he walked through the front door.

  I shake my head and laugh, stirring the pot of Mac and Cheese on the stove. I’m no chef but Chris doesn’t seem to mind my lacking culinary ski
lls. He’s just grateful when I cook dinner for us rather than ordering take-out night after night.

  Considering he can’t cook worth a shit he really has no room to complain anyway.

  A home cooked meal is a nice treat for both of us even if it is just boxed macaroni, canned green beans and fried pork chops. Neither of us had many home cooked meals growing up. It’s only natural for us to both savor the ones we have now.

  After his mom was ruthlessly murdered by his dad he had a very unconventional childhood. That was putting it mildly. Of all the things Brad Davis did, cooking nutritious meals for his two sons certainly wasn’t on the list.

  As for me and my childhood, things hadn’t been quite as severe. My mom had raised me up to seventeen when I ran away to live with a friend.

  Before that she had simply been too busy to act motherly. Working two jobs to pay the bills and spending every spare minute she had trying to find me a new step-dad didn’t leave much quality time left for me.

  Let’s just say I grew up on a healthy diet of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, grilled cheese sandwiches, bologna sandwiches, turkey sandwiches and ham and cheese sandwiches. I was over any type of meal involving dairy or protein between two slices of bread.

  “Smells good.” Chris comments, coming up behind me and inhaling the scent of the pork chops as they sizzled in the skillet.

  “Thanks.” I shudder at his light touch on my hip as he leans over my shoulder to get a better look. “How was tonight?”

  “It was…good? A little weird going to a meeting but it wasn’t bad.”

  Maneuvering me to the side, he pulls out two plates from the cabinet and sets the table while I finish cooking. We work in companionable silence.

  I’ll never stop being grateful that he doesn’t feel the need to fill silence with useless, meaningless chatter. Most people did.

  Some girls liked that kind of thing. I wasn’t one of them. If there’s nothing to say we can enjoy each other’s company quietly.

  I place the finished pork chops on a folded paper towel to soak some of the grease. Don’t judge me. It might not help much but it eased my mind that I had done my part in reducing our chances of having heart blockages by the age of thirty.

  Chris takes over draining the noodles and adding the packet of powdered cheese with a splash of milk to the pot.

  He hip bumps me out of his way and begins stirring the mixture. The kitchen really isn’t big enough for us to both be cooking at the same time.

  “Go sit, Nat. I got it from here.”

  Smiling, I do as he says and watch him spoon out the cheesy noodles on each of our plates. He gives me an extra spoonful, knowing how much I love Mac and Cheese.

  It’s my comfort food and if I wasn’t paying attention-or rather when I was by myself and safe from any judging eyes-I could devour the whole box single handedly.

  Surely he had noticed a few discarded boxes in our trash can and knew damn good and well I hadn’t shared any with him. Thankfully he was polite enough to not mention it.

  Good quality in a man.

  I pick up a pork chop with my fork and bypass the green beans. The healthy shit was for Chris. He had started avidly running with his brother Max a few months ago and needed all the greens he could get.

  My health conscious move was draining the grease.

  When we settle in he tosses something on the kitchen table between us. It clinks when it hits the faux wood. I reach for it and turn it over in my hand in examination.

  It’s his two year chip.

  “You worked hard for this. I’m so proud of you.”

  That was all I said on the matter. I know he didn’t like the attention focused on his sobriety. It made him uncomfortable.

  Besides, he was so much more than just a recovering addict. I didn’t want him to feel like that was part of his identity. As far as I was concerned it wasn’t. He was much more than that.

  Patient, loyal to a fault and resilient were a few of his best traits. Those were the things that made him who he was.

  There were plenty of people out there that never got to see that side of him and I was grateful I had the privilege.

  “This is so good.” He sighed after swallowing his first bite of pork chop. “I’m starving. Max is trying to kill me on this new diet.” He points his fork at me. “Don’t tell him I ate this. Fried is definitely not on the list of approved food.”

  I laugh. “You’re sneaking around eating pork chops now?”

  “Fried pork chops.” He corrected. “I guess if you grilled these things they would be fine with him. They would taste like shit though so I’m glad you didn’t. This is delicious, Nat.”

  “You’re so deprived of decent food you’re practically drooling over seasoned salt and batter.”

  He closed his eyes in pleasure and my stomach involuntarily twisted in response.

  Is that what he looks like when he comes? I wouldn’t know but now the question is on repeat in my mind as we keep eating.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  I grab my water and chug down the cool liquid to shake off the thoughts. A tingling sensation pulses between my legs and I cross them under the table in the hopes it’ll go away.

  I couldn’t afford to think about sex. Lust was unwelcome and had no place in this new life I had built for myself. I had spent so much time erasing it from my life over the past year and a half.

  The last man I slept with was a paying customer for fuck sake.

  Yes. You heard me right. I had sold my body to countless men. Married. Single. Young. Old. I had my share of all types of men.

  Chris’s dad had demanded it and expected his money at the end of each night to prove I was earning my keep in his sick and twisted mansion. If I came up short on cash I faced the consequences.

  That only happened once. Chris had intervened and we both paid the price for my mouthy attitude and defiance that night. The lesson left a lasting impression.

  It was that moment I realized I wasn’t at home with my mother anymore. I had traded being ignored for something much worse. Once was all it took for me to learn the error of my ways and get my ass in gear.

  That was probably why I had absolutely no interest in sex or men anymore. The second I was free from it there was no looking back.

  Tell that to your libido, Natalie. It’s going haywire right now.

  It seemed to flare up from time to time when I looked too closely at Chris. He was actually one of the few men I hadn’t slept with at some point in my life. Why ruin that streak of abstinence and platonic friendship now?

  He was a close friend. My best friend if I were being honest with myself.

  Always supportive. Understanding. Protective. Everything I needed at just the right moments.

  We lived together now. If I fucked him I would lose my only real friend besides Lacey and find myself homeless all over again.

  Look what happened last time I was alone and wandering around without a friend or a place to live. I had ended up in the Davis mansion as the newest girl in Brad’s little collection, being leased out to anyone willing to pay the fee for the night.

  We finish dinner and Chris gives me a look across the table that tells me he’s up to something.

  “You know what sounds good right now?”

  “What?”

  “Ice cream. Rocky Road.”

  I look down at my clothes. I already changed into my pajama pants. Even though I still had on the same shirt I wore to work I really didn’t see myself putting real pants back on.

  I tell him as much but, Chris being Chris, he always has a solution.

  “Just ride with me to the store. You can wait in the car while I go inside.”

  “Deal.” I concede quickly.

  From the moment he mentioned Rocky Road I was practically salivating. We climb in his car and when he starts backing out of the parking spot without the telltale clicking of his seatbelt.

  “Put your seatbelt on.”

  H
e rolls his eyes silently but does as I ask. Within seconds he’s pulling onto the main road, seatbelt securely fastened, and we’re heading to pick up our favorite ice cream.

  Our Rocky Road obsession started years ago when he caught me in the kitchen in the middle of the night sneaking bites of his stash straight from the container.

  Truth be told I was rushing to get a taste before putting the evidence back in the freezer and getting back to my bed unseen. Brad Davis made it crystal clear that his girls were on a strict diet.

  Putting on weight meant losing money in the world of upper class prostitution.

  He wanted us to have a model statuesque which meant plenty of hungry nights. That was probably why I binge ate so much now. A shrink would love to get their psychoanalytic hands on me.

  When Chris caught me that night I thought he was going to be pissed at me for eating his food without asking. Then I was certain he was going to rat me out to his dad.

  I was shocked silent when he grabbed a spoon from the drawer and pulled the container between the two of us, sharing with me until every last bit was gone.

  Neither of us spoke a word that night but we formed a silent understanding. A wordless bond solidified over an incurable sweet tooth.

  “You better not tell Max about this ice cream run.” He gave me the side eye and I caught a glimpse of the humor lighting up his face.

  I giggled at his irrational worry about his little brother finding out he ate fried pork chops and shared a pint of Rocky Road with me. Just last week I had to play the role of lookout while he carried our groceries upstairs so his brother didn’t find out the bags were filled with junk food.

  This fad diet was getting a bit out of hand.

  “I won’t. You have my word.”

  ☠　Chapter Three ☠

  Chris

  “God. Damn. It. Max.” I choked out as I slowed my pace in front of the new omelet bar two miles from the apartment.

  Max found it last week and decided it would be a great replacement to the donut shop we used to run to. He was a tyrant with this new diet shit and somehow I was wrangled into participating. For the most part.