Free Recovery by Abigail Stone Page B

tends to happen a lot here,” she joked, “people coming on vacation and staying forever. It’s kind of sad, actually.”
    Chase nodded in silent agreement, finishing off his cigarette and tossing the bud into an ashtray that sat in the middle of the coffee table, which separated himself from Layla. For a while, neither one of them spoke. Then, finally, Layla broke the silence.
    “What happened to your brother?” she asked, not wanting to be too intrusive.
    Chase squared his broad shoulders. It was clear to Layla that all three of the Disciples she had come to know were sensitive in their own right, regardless of their rugged appearances. Leo – the man Layla couldn’t accept as her father – was kind and caring, but on the outside, he appeared every bit as brutish and scary as a hardened con. Richie was strong and fearless, having killed two men to protect the life of one woman he didn’t know, but the act of pulling the trigger had scarred him into seclusion – to the point where his own brother didn’t even seem to know where he was.
    And Chase. He was probably the most easy to dissect of them all. When Layla looked at him, she saw a man grappling with good and evil – carefully teetering the line of both. He was capable of cruelty in a way Layla had witnessed firsthand, but it was becoming abundantly clear to her that kindness was what he preferred. Unfortunately, it was a side of himself that he couldn’t express in the lifestyle he had chosen without appearing soft.
    “He’s on the road somewhere,” Chase shrugged, “That’s what I’m assuming, anyway. Can’t really say I blame him either. I doubt I would have stuck around, you know. Having done what he did.” He paused, drumming his fingers lightly on his legs.
    “Tell me about you,” he pushed Layla, “I don’t mind talking, but listening is more my thing.”
    His words were simple enough but Layla couldn’t help but find them profound. It was the first time in her life that someone had asked her, in layman’s terms, to describe herself. Most people just assumed they knew everything about her, a common occurrence in a world that gave so much merit to Stardom and Celebrities.
    “Alright,” Layla began, searching for the perfect way to describe twenty-three years of addiction and self-doubt in a few condensed sentences. She could feel the effects of the cocaine turning her brain into sludge, but she powered through it, not wanting the moment to go to waste. In the living room of Leo’s dilapidated cabin, which doubled as the Disciples’ clubhouse, Layla sat with a damp towel wrapped around herself, allowing the words to fall freely from her mouth.
    She told Chase that she hated being famous.
    That it felt like her entire life had been condensed down into a series of short, poorly directed movies. That she sometimes wished her mother loved her more, or at least acted like she did. And before Layla could stop herself, she told Chase about Leo and the illicit moment they had shared together in the clearing. Before either one of them had known what a huge mistake they were making.
    “It was wrong,” Layla whispered, unable to look Chase in the eye, “but it was also the only thing in my life that ever felt right.”
    Layla felt dirty as the confession stumbled from her lips. She had barely even admitted that to herself, and now, Chase knew it too. Layla silently cursed herself, feeling her cheeks burning red. When she finally found it in herself to look up at Chase, she expected a look of disgust, but what she got instead was one of empathy.
    He stood up, climbing across the barrier that separated himself from Layla and taking a seat beside her on the sofa. He grabbed her clammy hand, giving it a squeeze. He didn’t speak, but it was what he didn’t say that mattered. He didn’t denounce her. He didn’t call her outside of her name, and he didn’t press her for further details on how far she and Leo had taken it.
    “It doesn’t