No Chance by Lisa Suzanne

CHAPTER 46: BRETT

Beep.

Beep.

I try to pry my eyes open, but they won’t budge.

Beep.

Beep.

I try again, and still...nothing.

Beep.

Beep.

This is ridiculous.

Beep.

I think he’s waking up.

Beep.

Come on, man. Wake the fuck up.

Beep.

Beep.

Is that Tommy’s voice? I can’t tell. Everything sounds so far away except for the goddamn beeping. That is loud and right in my fucking ear.

I finally get my eyes open, and I gasp for breath as the bright, white lights burn my retinas.

And that’s when it hits me. My stomach retches and I turn to my side to heave.

Nothing comes out.

“Nurse! He’s awake!”

That’s definitely Tommy, and as my eyes come back into focus, I realize I’m tied down to a bed. Or, at least, there’s an IV attached to the back of my hand that’s sort of holding me in place...and that’s when I realize I’m in a hospital.

“What the fuck am I doing here?” I croak.

A nurse comes rushing over to me as a concerned Tommy backs into a corner.

I’m epically confused as I try to think back. I have no idea how I got here. What’s the last thing I can remember? I’m in a fog that won’t let me find the answer to that question.

The nurse takes all my vitals.

“What am I doing here?” I try again, this time to the nurse.

My voice doesn’t sound like my voice.

“You overdosed, Mr. Pitzer,” she says. Her voice holds no judgement.

“On what?” I demand even though I’ve already pieced it together.

“Fentanyl.”

Yeah, that makes sense. Memories start to spring up through the pounding in my head and the nausea in my stomach. I heave again, but still...nothing.

I took a few painkillers to numb that fucking ache in my chest that won’t go away, and I swallowed them down with the whiskey I was already drinking. I took another one when the ache wasn’t subsiding after Tommy dragged me to some club. I vaguely remember a woman climbing onto my lap and flashing lights in the club and then everything went dark.

“We administered Naloxone,” she says. She finishes her exam of my vitals and nods. “We’ll have a doctor in for a psych screening shortly.”

She sweeps out of the room to do whatever it is she does, and I relax back onto the pillow. I just want to sleep for decades.

I hear Tommy’s footsteps as they move closer. “Dude, you okay?”

I feel weak, like I can’t even muster up the ability for conversation right now. “Fine,” I mutter without really moving my mouth. It’s not true. I’m not fine. Apart from knowing I sent away my own child and the woman I love, everything everywhere hurts. I’m dizzy and nauseous, I feel like I’m going to vomit, and a weird, restless nervousness permeates my entire being. My chest buzzes with the nerves.

Am I going to be arrested?

Fentanyl isn’t legal—at least the synthetic strain I bought from a buddy a week ago isn’t.

I know better than to mix it with alcohol. I’m not some addict. I just wanted to numb the pain for a little while.

And I guess I did...but I was too far gone to know it.

“You could’ve died,” Tommy says, and his voice is shaky. “The fuck were you doing taking Fentanyl?”

I close my eyes rather than respond.

“Thank God we got your ass here in time, man. It was real fucking scary watching you at the club.”

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“Are you?” He moves in closer, and I don’t see it since my eyes are still closed. Instead, I feel it. He grabs my arm and shakes me. “Are you? Because I’m not kidding, man. You want to throw away everything we’ve done? You very nearly did that tonight.” He’s aggressive with the shaking, particularly for someone who, as he put it, could’ve died a few hours ago.

“Stop.” My voice is soft, and I finally open my eyes. I blow out a breath and force myself to lift a hand to put it on Tommy’s arm—in part to make him stop, but also in part to reassure him that I’m still here. “I’m sorry.”

“You fucking should be, man.” He turns away from me, but just because he turns so I can’t see the emotion on his face doesn’t mean I can’t hear it in his voice. He faces the window as he repeats, “You fucking should be.”

I press my lips together.

He’s right.

I could have died tonight. Naloxone...that’s some serious shit. Even I know they only give that to OD patients who need to stop opioid effects immediately.

I guess it worked.

Thank God it worked.

Of course I still want to be here.

Except...not here.

I didn’t just wake up from an overdose. Something snaps in my brain as I start to wake the fuck up.

I can’t keep living like this. I can’t take shit to try to numb the pain. I can’t very nearly throw my entire life away because I think a few pills might solve the problem.

I can’t live without her.

I can’t live without the kid.

I don’t want to live without either one of them, and it took nearly dying for me to be able to admit that. I’m not my fucking father, and I’m not what my fucking father said I am.

Lying here in this bed right now...it seems like I am. But I will wake up from this nightmare, and I will walk in the sunshine tomorrow, and I will step up to be the man I know deep down I can be despite all the people in my life who have made me feel like I can’t be.

I will go to her, and I will tell her I want to be with her, and I will pray that she still feels the same.

I will pray I’m not too goddamn late.

Maybe I did die tonight...in a way. The former me who takes pills and trolls nightclubs with Tommy and smokes blunts on my balcony and thinks he’s better off alone—that guy just died in the middle of that nightclub.

But Brett? The man, the drummer, the legend?

That motherfucker is still alive and well.

And as soon as they release me from this prison of a hospital bed, my life changes.

* * *

“How are you feeling?” Danielle asks me.

“Like shit,” I admit.

Tommy took me to Tyler’s place because the shrink that questioned me before he okayed my release suggested that I shouldn’t be alone. Tyler volunteered for the honor of nursing me back to health, but deep in the recesses of my mind, I can’t help but think he did it because he didn’t want me to be alone with Tommy. Afterall, the OD happened when I was.

Some cop is coming to check on me in a couple days to remind me of the dangers of drugs and ensure I’m not an addict about to relapse, so I’m not allowed to leave until after that happens. It’s a roadblock, but it also gives me time to plan.

Except I sleep away nearly two full days once I’m released, and I still feel like shit. I’m lying across one of their outdoor couches a little after seven in the morning since my schedule is fucked now, and Danielle’s sitting on the coffee table in front of me.

“Because of the overdose?” she asks.

I shake my head. “You know why. I let her in, and it felt good, and I got scared and ran. And now I’m here recovering from an overdose that happened because I’m an idiot who thought painkillers would magically cure a broken heart.”

She presses her lips together. “If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure she feels the same way you do.”

I blow out a breath and sit up. “You do?”

She lifts a shoulder. “That girl is in love with you, Brett. I don’t get it.” She shakes her head, and I think she’s teasing me. “She’s such a nice girl so I still don’t understand why she fell for you. But she did. Without a doubt.”

“Without a doubt?” I repeat.

She nods. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to get the girl. And the kid. If they’ll still have me.”

Her hopeful face breaks out into a grin, and then she looks behind me at something. “I have a little surprise for you.”

I narrow my eyes at her as my chest races. Are they here? I guess that would be a big surprise, and she said it was little. “What is it?” I turn around and see a police officer approaching.

When I look back at Danielle, she shrugs. “I figured you wanted to, you know, maybe book a flight to Phoenix or something, so I pulled some strings and got your appointment moved up.” She stands. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

Once I prove to Officer Daniels that I’m not an addict, I take a hot shower and Danielle makes me a power breakfast of eggs, sausage, bacon, and oatmeal. Tyler saunters down at the smell of bacon, and Luna walks in sleepily carrying her blanket a short while later.

I thank them profusely for their hospitality, and then I head home. I call Jo on the way and have her book me the next flight to Phoenix.

I think about calling Hannah...but I don’t. I need to see her in person. I need to tell her that I love her and that I want to be with her and my son and I want to raise him with her and I want to figure out how to just fucking make this work.

I just pray she hasn’t filed the guardianship papers yet because I don’t want to give up my rights to my son. I want to share them with her...and that’s entirely different paperwork.

The next flight out isn’t for a few hours, so I jump at the chance to purchase a few things I’ll need for this trip.

When Jo sends me my boarding pass, I realize today’s date.

It’s Chance’s first birthday.

I grab a few more gifts as I search for something meaningful for my little boy’s first birthday, and it hits me as I’m standing in the middle of the toy aisle of some huge box store.

I’m buying presents for my little boy’s first birthday. My little boy.

I can’t wait to celebrate all the birthdays with him. I’m thankful I’m here to do it.

I just hope I’m not too late.

I head to the airport, and as I check the board for my flight, I see capital, bold letters: DELAYED.

Fuck.