A Billion Reasons (Wish 8)

10 - Hell hole

Monty moaned. His head hurt. The light streamed in, making him afraid to open his eyes. He attempted to move from his side to his back and he hit something. Not a person. Why would he think he wasn't alone? He had never spent the night with a woman, ever. The back of the sofa. As his mind moved from sleep, the only thing he felt was pain. His legs, his back, and his head screamed at him. He felt like he had been mugged or attacked. Neither had ever happened to him before, so it wasn't a familiar reference point. The fog lifted in his brain and he remembered the baseball player.

Tears welled, ready to drop down his face. Slowly, he lifted his arm and winced. His cheek felt rough from streaks of dried salt. His brain started working, and he remembered Gray. Should he hate him or love him for what he did?

When he slipped into the car, he had been angry. So fucking angry. By the time they reached the condo, he had taken his anger out on Gray's driving at least ten times. Gray silently took it, but the minute they walked into the condo, the big hulk of a man turned to him.

"Do you want to have at me? I can be your effing punching bag."

"No, I want the keys to my car. I need to go out." It wasn't quite eleven and if he hurried he could get to the package store before it closed.

"You aren't getting these keys. You are going to tell me what the hell happened."

In desperation, he lunged at the fortress of a man. Gray stood planted in his spot, looking down at him, not amused. He swung at him and they fought. Gray might have held some back, but not all. Monty touched his cheek again. It was swollen and bruised. He got a couple of good shots in. After a lot of swings and misses and nasty trash talk, Gray stopped and stood with his hands on his hips. Out of breath, Monty took one last shot at him, hurting his own fist on the man's bicep made of lead.

"Stores are closed. Now tell me what the hell happened."

"Kryptonite killed me. If I can't be drunk, then I can't be here." This time there were no sleeping pills to steal.

Before he could even think about another way, Gray exploded. "Fuck you. You aren't taking the easy way out this time. You aren't a seventeen-year-old broken boy anymore. You are a man. One who has people who care about him. One who has a purpose and makes a difference in people's lives. If I'm still here after all the shit I've seen and experienced in my life, then you fucking need to be here too. We are in this hell hole together."

Gray made him change his clothes and get on the bike. All night long, Gray worked him like a drill sergeant until he finally spilled the entire story. While he rode into oblivion, Gray walked on the treadmill. The man could run five miles without breaking a sweat, but he would have had to run a marathon. Then he forced him to lift. If Gray hadn't spotted him, he might have killed himself. Crushed by weight.

Once the story came out, the tears started. All he remembered was the sun coming up and crying.

He groaned again. "You're going to feel pain."

He opened his eyes. Gray was sitting in the chair. He looked like shit. Monty wanted to smile, but his face hurt too much. "Did I give you a black eye?"

"It was your only good shot. How's your cheek? I tried to go easy, but you started to piss me off."

Gray stood and stretched. He disappeared as Monty shut his eyes, hoping to block his memories. He had always had a good memory. Shutting out the memory of her beautiful and smiling in another man's arms brought up the old ones he had been carrying for years.

Sloane hadn't wanted him, and his life was over. He had to hide the pain from his father. Only Alice knew the truth. His parents continued on with their busy life, oblivious that their own child was suffering. He stole from each of them to put an end to the suffering, sleeping pills from his mother and a bottle from his father. He sent a text to Sloane telling her he would always love her, but she was on her way to the island for a week of fun without him.

Alice was the one who interrupted his plan. She found him and called for help. What resulted was a long stay in a facility for troubled teens and the start of years of counseling. While Sloane and Jonathan graduated high school in caps and gowns, he finished his credits in the loony bin. He turned eighteen in that place and only his mother came to see him.

Gray returned with a glass of water, Advil, and an ice pack. He helped him sit up, so he could take the pills and hold the cold gel to his cheek.

"On Monday, you can tell your counselor all about it. Until then, I'll do what it takes to keep you alive and sober. You aren't a coward, so don't act like one."

The day he returned home, his father looked at him and said, "Whitbys aren't weak, but you are not only weak but a pathetic coward. I will not tolerate anymore of this selfish, childish behavior. You are a man now. Act like it."

"Oliver would kill me if I off'd myself. He wants the book. We need to go to France next."

"Oui, oui."

Monty winced because he couldn't laugh. He wanted to book the trip sooner to get away. "We can't go until my body recovers from your beating. I want to do the jump in Marseille again."

The weak, selfish coward packed a bag and left with his passport and unlimited funds. He traveled the world, trying to outrun his pain. He drank a lot, but he also experienced things. After his first bungee jump off the Victoria Falls Bridge in Zambia, he overheard some guys talking about the most extreme jumps on six continents. He traveled to each and started a blog about his adventures. He didn't use a name, so it was anonymous. As his followers accumulated, he felt a purpose. He was still sad and numbed the pain most every night, but he felt a reason to live.

His last jump was 524 feet in Nepal. He loved eastern Asia. He loved the food and the culture and the working girls he paid. He returned home with a kanji tattoo on his arm to remind him he had loved and been loved.

He winced as he raised his arm to cover his eyes. The green ink on his forearm caught his eye. He didn't think of Sloane, but of Sofia's reaction when he told her no one had loved him since he was a kid. His mother loved him, but she didn't count. Gray loved him, but he wasn't a soft place. He was as hard as cement and chose tough love over cuddling.

He had survived losing Sloane before and would do so again. Embarrassed by his desperation the night before, he said, "We both need to sleep. I promise I won't do anything. I want to live to make your sorry life more miserable."

"Like making me jump off bridges for a thrill."

"And planes."

"No more jumping out of planes. I'm getting too old for your shit."

He assured Gray he was no longer a danger to himself. Was he ever one? He would have preferred the alcohol. A raging hangover felt better than how he felt with every ounce of tissue and muscle screaming at him. Each man showered, and they retreated to their beds. Monty slept, but not soundly. The pain including in his two most important muscles kept him from resting comfortably.

Only one body part didn't hurt. He winced as he remembered he broke his own vow and met Jessica in the theater room. He was an idiot, especially after Trey tried to help him.

Changing positions, he tried to sleep again, but his mind was awake and spinning. No matter which way it spun, he always came back to Sloane. Would he ever stop loving her?

He drifted into a light sleep, only to be woken by his phone ringing. Reaching for the annoying device, he winced.

"Hello."

"Monty dear, you sound awful. Are you sick?"

He would never confuse the caller with his mother. Over three decades of living with his father caused Celia to withhold affection. She would state the purpose of her call without worrying about his well being.

"Not sick. Just tired. How can I help you, Bea?"

"I'm calling to invite you to dinner. Informal just family."

"My family?"

Bea laughed. "No, dear. Informal with Sage and Aidan. You can wear jeans. I will."

He chuckled. He couldn't imagine the older woman in denim. "I don't believe you."

"You'll have to come to see for yourself. How's Tuesday? Come early. You need another wish?"

"Challenge accepted."

He smiled. The woman reminded him of Alice. Bea had one daughter, but she loved all the children, including him.