Breaking The Biker (The Biker Series)(10)

By: Cassie Alexandra

“Do you see me smiling?”

I knew what he was doing. “If you’re trying to make a point, I get it, okay? But, it’s different. I lost my little boy. He’s dead. So is my husband,” I said, trying to fight the tears. “It’s so damn hard…”

“I know what hard is. I lost my wife Carol to cancer before you were born. Loved that woman. She was everything to me. I also lost my sister, your mother. If I would have given up though, Raina, you and your brother would have ended up in foster care somewhere.”

“I’m not dying, Sal,” I argued. I just didn’t care about living anymore.

“Bullshit. You may not be dying, but you certainly aren’t living. I can see it in your eyes, Raina.”

“What do you expect me to do, Sal?” I argued. “It’s not like I can go and get my son replaced like a damn liver.” I knew that it was cruel, but I was angrier than hell. “He’s gone. I don’t have another chance at getting him back.”

“Maybe not, but you have a chance to make a difference in somebody else’s life, Raina. Just like I did for you and Cole. It may not be today or tomorrow, but you will. Believe me.”

“If we made so much of a difference, then why have you carried on drinking all of these years when you knew what it was doing to you?”

“Because I lied to myself, sweetheart, and I guess that I didn’t think it would ever get this bad. Now I can’t even go a few hours without needing a shot of something.”

“Can’t you get medical treatment?” I asked, so frightened of losing him, too.

“I could, although I don’t know if it’s worth it,” he replied. “Once they get the test results back, I know what they’re going to say.”

I stared at his skin, really noticing the yellowish tinge for the first time. “It’s worth it. You have to hang in there, and for God’s sake,” I leaned over his desk and snatched away the bottle. “Stop drinking!”

“It’s not easy. Lord knows I tried a couple of times these last few months, and the withdrawals are horrible. But,” he looked me square in the eye, “I’m willing to get help if you’re willing to do it, too.”

I grunted. “Who in the hell can help me get my son back?”

“Nobody, but someone can help you learn to live without him,” he answered. “I’m talking about counseling.”

“I don’t want to live without him,” I said, my voice breaking.

He grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Part of him will always be with you,” said Sal. “But you need to learn how to move on. You need to see a grief counselor.”

I turned my face away and brushed at the tears. “So, if I agree to talk to someone, you’ll agree to get treatment for your liver?”

He nodded.

“Okay,” I replied, willing to do anything to help Sal. I could even just pretend to go, I thought. “I’ll check around and make an appointment. You, on the other hand, can’t wait.”

“I know. My doctor is waiting for me to call him back so he can refer me to a treatment center. I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Treatment center. That’s good. You’re going to go through with it, though, right?”

“I will. As long as you agree to talk to someone, too. In fact,” Sal reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it up and pulled out a business card. “You can call this woman, Janene Bakerson.”

I stared down at the card. So much for pretending. “So, she specializes in grief therapy, huh?”

He nodded.

“I don’t know what good it’s going to do,” I mumbled. “But, if it’s the only way you’re willing to get treatment, I’ll do it.”

He looked relieved. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

I put the card in my back pocket and stood up. “Make that call to your doctor, Sal. I want to know that you’re serious about this.”

“I’m serious, which brings me to another reason why I need to talk to you. Sit back down.”

Sighing, I did.

“When I’m gone, I’m going to need you to take over the bar.”

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