The Blessing Read online

  Chapter 4

  Come as you are

  Adrenaline courses through my veins as I walk to my truck with a shit-eating grin on my face. I can’t fucking believe it! I can’t believe I managed to get a job on my second day hunting! As the supervisor interviewed me for the position, I honestly thought I had no chance in hell of getting it. Of course, it isn’t the greatest job in the world, but it was one I could do well.

  The position required no experience, which is perfect for me considering I’ve never had a job doing construction work. I walked out of the interview today as an entry-level laborer, and the job pays more than I’d hoped for. The hours are just right and will give me plenty of time to build a relationship with Grey. He’s lost everything so quickly, so I know he’ll need someone to care for him and provide a stable home.

  As soon as I arrive at my parents’ home, he’s the only one I want to see. I find him playing with his stuffed Simba on the floor, while cartoons play on the television a few feet away. I stand in the doorway for a moment and smile at him, thinking about how quickly my life has changed. I feel like I’m slowly transforming into a man better than I ever thought I could be. If I keep making progress like this, who knows where I’ll be in a year’s time. So many responsibilities have been thrown at me so quickly; I knew this was a sink or swim situation. So, I’m so fucking happy I’ve managed to swim. I know I shouldn’t get too content with myself because I can still relapse and ruin everything, but I can’t help but feel a little proud of the progress I’ve made already.

  Before my thoughts become pessimistic—which they always seem to do—Grey turns his little head around and smiles at me, squealing with excitement as I enter the room. He looks at me as if I were his whole world and it makes me feel fucking invincible. With my brother gone, I’m his dad now and the thought is so fucking bewildering. I’m someone’s dad… I’m responsible for this little human, so I can’t fuck this up. Of course, I’ll never measure up to his biological father, but I can try my fucking hardest to fill my brother’s shoes.

  “Hey, buddy,” I quietly say as I sink down on the floor next to him.

  He mumbles a few syllables in response before flipping himself over to lay on his back. My eyes widen at the great feat he just accomplished and pride overwhelms me. I’ve never seen him do that! Perhaps him turning over is something he’s done a million times before, but this is the first time I’ve been here to witness it. He kicks his legs and waves his hands around as he tries to work off some of the energy I can tell is overwhelming him. I reach down and tickle his belly, smiling at the sound of his laughter as it feels the room.

  “You’re so strong, buddy!” I exclaim as I continue to lightly tickle him. “I’m so proud of you, Grey.”

  He smiles at this as if he can perfectly understand me. My button-up shirt begins to constrict my movements, so I quickly take it off before I start playing with him, leaving me in my slacks and a white cotton T-shirt. Just as I lie down on the floor and pull Grey onto my chest, I hear a female gasp and look to find my mother standing in the doorway. For a moment, I’m confused, not understanding how anything about what I’m doing could be shocking—but then I realize she’s never seen the extent of my tattoos. I got all of them after I left home, so, I’ve been wearing long sleeved shirts since I returned. Of course, she’s seen the black and gray lotus flower tattoo on the side of my neck, but I’m sure she thought that was the extent of my body ink.

  With wide-eyes, she takes in the sight of my sleeves on both arms. They feature art by the same tattoo artist from California and are intricate weavings of black and gray, expect for the only pop of color: a red rose on my right forearm. I give her a sheepish smile and shrug my shoulders before turning my attention back to Grey. What does she want me to say? I’m sorry for getting my tattoos? I don’t regret a single piece of ink… or a single piercing, for that matter. Luckily, most of my piercing are in places my mother will never see—because God knows if she found out about some of them, she’d fucking faint.

  “How do you expect to get a job with your body covered in tattoos?” she asks condescendingly.

  I can’t help but feel a bit smug as I answer her. “I already have a job, Mom. I start tomorrow, so I’ll need you to keep an eye on Grey for me.”

  Her eyes widen and before she can say anything, my dad enters the room with a proud grin on his face. It’s the first time I’ve seen him really smile in a long time, and it’s satisfying to know I put it there.

  “That’s great, son,” he says enthusiastically. “I can’t believe you found a job so quickly!”

  “Yeah, we talked for about twenty-minutes and then he just hired me,” I tell him proudly.

  “Well, that’s amazing,” Dad agrees as he wraps an arm around my mother’s shoulders. “We’re really happy for you.”

  Grey squeals in agreement before nestling his face against my chest.

  The first day on the job is no easy feat. It’s fucking difficult; I suppose I shouldn’t have expected much else. Despite being an entry-level construction job, they don’t mess around. My project manager, Jaxson, has shown me the ropes today, explaining all the equipment and letting me know exactly what I can expect on a jobsite. It doesn’t take long for me to figure out why they pay so fucking generously. This shit is more dangerous than I thought!

  Our particular shifts begin in the early morning and end around one-thirty in the afternoon. The hours were one of the main reasons I jumped at the opportunity to get this job. If I can end my workday in the early afternoon, I get to spend the rest of my time with Grey. Around quitting time, Jaxson’s whole demeanor changes. He was so anal and serious earlier, but now he’s relaxed and fucking jovial.

  “So, you new to town?” he asks as we pack up for the day.

  I hesitate, not wanting to divulge my life story to a stranger. I feel like once people know a little bit about you, they just assume the rest. They think they have you all figured out because they’ve seen a sliver of your life. I want a fresh start—so, I don’t need a constant reminder of all the shit I had to go through to get to this point.

  “I just moved back, actually,” I finally reply as I keep my head down and continue to pack my things. “I was traveling around the U.S. for a while,” I finish vaguely, not wanting to divulge any more.

  “Well, that’s cool! I’ve always wanted to travel, but I haven’t managed to leave Colorado.”

  “It’s not too different,” I comment mildly. Hell, I was high or drunk most of the time, so it wasn’t exactly the scenery that was keeping me entertained. “Everything seems to look the same after a while.”

  “I doubt that,” he chuckles as he slings his backpack over his shoulder. “It’s so fucking dull here. I’ve already done everything there is to do. The scenery gets boring after a while here, too.”

  My thoughts drift to California—where the sun would beat down on me and open my every pore. I always felt like I was fucking blossoming there. Maybe because everything seemed so alive around me. The sun was always bright and the people were lively and free. I can still feel the grass tickle my naked body after hours of getting high and fucking on an open field in Big Sur. I shake those thoughts from my mind—knowing that life is far behind me now. It was fun while it lasted, as many things are, but it’s over now and there’s no looking back. Evergreen is a different story. From what I can remember, the weather can be really fucking harsh during the winter and everyone sticks closer to home in those months. That is, unless they’re hitting up the slopes. But come summertime, the foothills and mountains are filled with hikers and campers. Thank fuck I came back in August so I have plenty of time to become acclimated to this fucking place. Evergreen is also about a half hour away from Denver, so we’re close enough to have a dope nightlife, which, for obvious reason, I’m going to try my best to fucking avoid.

  “Well, there was a lot of beauty out in Cali,” I say breathlessly. This is the first time I thought on my old life in a positive light.
I had a lot of good times there but, at the end of the day, I only felt empty.

  “I’ve always wanted to go there,” Jaxson comments with a grin. “I’d love to try my hand at surfing. I’m pretty athletic so I think I’d be decent, you know? I do a lot of skiing and snowboarding during our off season. You should come with us this winter. You ski?”

  I snort at his comment and wonder if I’ve made my first friend in Colorado. I don’t have any interest in hitting up any of my old friends from high school. They’ve either moved on to bigger and better things and I wouldn’t be able to keep up with them, or they’ve become bigger druggies who’d want nothing more than to pull me back into that lifestyle. While I want to surround myself with positive people—I also don’t want to feel too down on myself. Whenever I’m around someone my age who’s successful, I find they—intentionally or not—flaunt their success in my face which makes me feel even shitter about myself and my life choices. Even if they don’t mean to do it—it fucking feels that way. I want to surround myself with people who are going through some of the same struggles as I am, while being a lot more optimistic than I fucking am. I need good influences in my life right now. Jaxson seems like a potentially good option for me. He’s nice, successful in his own right, and doesn’t appear to be much older than me. It’d be nice to have a friend I’m on the same page with. Hell, it’d be even nicer if we were on the same fucking word—but with my history, I doubt I’ll find that.

  We make small talk on the way to our trucks and pause before we go our separate ways. “Me and some of the guys are getting a late lunch if you’re interested,” he says, nodding at some of the guys I met earlier in the day. “I know this great bar nearby. We’ll probably head over there.”

  Shit. This is exactly why it’s going to be hard finding friends I can actually “socialize” with. I don’t want to explain my issues to him. I don’t want him to known about the damn urges I’d have sitting in a bar. I wouldn’t be able to sit there without having a drink and one drink would most definitely lead to two, and before I realized what was happening, I’d be piss ass drunk. That’s the way it always went, and that’s the way it’s always going to be if I don’t put my foot down and stop it. It’s difficult because alcohol seems to be an American fucking staple. It’s everywhere you look and it’s hard to have a night out with friends without involving alcohol.

  “I can’t, man,” I say, trying not to sound too sheepish. “I have stuff to take care of at home, but thanks anyway.”

  Jaxson doesn’t miss a beat, although, I’m certain he notices my discomfort. “That’s cool, man. Maybe next time.” He turns on his spot and walks toward his truck as I do the same.

  Wanting to impress my parents—something which makes me feel very fucking young—I decided to make dinner tonight. I used to cook a bit for my roommates back in Cali, but I wasn’t great at it by any means. I knew how to prepare a few good meals which made for okay leftovers.

  As soon as I walk into Safeway, I realize I can’t even go to the damned grocery store without being hit with temptation. The thought of this makes me feel like the possibility of a relapse is looming over me. It’s as though all of my vices are constantly thrown in my fucking face. Thank, God I never became a full-blown alcoholic and thankfully quitting wasn’t as painful for me as it is for some. I watched a friend of mine go through withdrawals once; it felt like I was watching someone who was stuck in a nightmare which they couldn’t awaken from. I watched him as he would rock back and forth on his mattress with the shakes—yearning for some sort of fix and not caring the price he would have to pay for it. He relapsed, of course, which inspired me to never let myself get that horrifically bad. My biggest vices were alcohol, cigarettes, uppers, and pills—but I kicked every last one of them to the curb. While I’m proud of my success, I’m constantly worried the rug is going to be pulled from beneath my feet and I’ll land right back on my ass.

  I pass by the cigarette counter and can practically taste the nicotine on my fucking tongue. With all the stress that’s going on in my life due to this transition, I’d give just about anything for a Marlboro 27. However, I know I can’t smoke around a baby. I’m not willing to risk his health in order to get a nicotine fix. As soon as there’s a safe distance between me and the cigarette counter, I hit a mountain of wine and an aisle of alcohol. Who the hell mapped out this place!?

  I stare at the displayed boxes of wine stacked up on the floor, remembering the terrible hangovers their sweetness caused. I look over to my favorite brands of IPA and sigh, wishing I could have just one taste to tie me over for the rest of my life. Jesus, Trevor. How on Earth are you going to get through this? Just as I’m reaching for a bottle of beer—just wanting to hold it in my hands for a moment—a girl breezes by, effectively stopping me in my tracks.

  I turn my head to look at her, realizing she’s not a girl—she’s a confident-fucking-woman. She isn’t my usual type, but my body seems to yearn for her nonetheless. She’s short, with a very curvy figure and a perfect ass. Her long, wavy, brown hair sways a few inches above her voluptuous ass, making it even more enticing. When she turns around to face me, I can feel myself fucking salivate. God, I haven’t had sex in a while. Her frontside is just as amazing as her backside. She has a nice set of tits and a beautiful heart-shaped face. She’s wearing these tight jeans that make her ass look unbelievably bitable, and a top that molds to her curves like a second fucking skin. Thankfully, she doesn’t notice me checking her out, allowing me a few more moments to appreciate her. When she finally does meet my gaze, her cheeks stain with a blush so prominent I can see it from where I stand at least a good fifteen feet away. She looks beyond embarrassed and I suddenly feel bad for ogling her the way I did. Where the hell are my manners? Before I can apologize, she grabs a bottle of wine and puts it in her cart before quickly moving on.

  My body moves before my mind can register what I’m doing. I push my cart forward, intending on following her—which I’m sure wouldn’t be too well received. She doesn’t look like the type of girl who’d be into a man like me. She appears to be too straight-laced and traditional and I’m not really the type of guy you write home about. As much as I want to go strike up a conversation with her, I know it’d just be ridiculous. I imagine she’s the type of girl who has her shit together—and I’m the type of guy who can barely keep his life from falling apart. What could I possibly offer a girl like her? Nothing.

  I can’t imagine any woman wanting to date me. I know women find me hot. I’m not conceited, but I do get hit on constantly. However, wanting to fuck and wanting to date are two completely different things. I pause for a moment, wondering why I’m brooding over this in the first place. I have bigger shit on my plate to deal with, therefore, I shouldn’t even consider dating right now. I need to focus on bettering myself, as well as the baby I have at home who depends on me for everything. This train of thought makes me feel slightly better.

  I try to keep my thoughts on shopping, not wanting to get too down on myself this early in my journey. Things are the way they are and brooding over them isn’t going to change a damn thing. I’ll still be stuck in the same life, so dwelling on it will only depress me. As I shop, I can’t help but imagine what I would’ve said to the brunette stunner if I’d actually went up and talked to her. “Hey, I’m Trevor Warren. I live with my parents and I’ve recently become sober. Oh, by the way, did I mention I have a five-month-old baby to care for? Sounds appealing, right?” I snort at the thought. There’s no way I could be so straight forward with a girl. I’d at least want them to have sex with me first, so they’d see that I do have some redeeming qualities. However, I’m sure the truth about my situation would come out sooner or later. For instance, if she wanted to get it on at my place, I’d have to take her back to my childhood home and her interest for me would vanish completely. No girl wants to take on a guy whose life is a fucking mess.

  I finish shopping and walk up to the checkout line feeling about two feet tall.
To brighten my spirits, my card gets declined as I try to pay for my small amount of groceries. I pull out my wallet and pay in cash, trying to hide the embarrassment I feel.

  Grey manages to brighten my mood as soon as I arrive home. He begins to squeal as soon as he hears me kick the front door shut. I jog to the living room with my groceries still in hand to find him perched in his usual spot on the floor with his stuffed Simba. He looks at me like I’m his fucking hero and all the inferiority I felt earlier immediately dissipates. I place the groceries on the floor and pick him up, smooshing his cheek against mine. He giggles against me and I take a deep breath, enjoying his familiar smell of baby powder and No More Tears body wash. His presence is so soothing, and I think part of it is due to the fact that he reminds me so much of my brother. Dean had the same comforting presence and could easily calm a room full of people. I’m happy to find Grey is so much like his daddy. It’s like I’ll always have a piece of my brother with me whenever I need it.

  Chapter 5

  Beast of burden

  My first day on the job without Jaxson’s guidance is fucking brutal. I can’t remember the last time the sun felt so blistering fucking hot. By the end of the day, sweat pours down my body and my muscles throb, begging for a break. We’ve been digging a form for a sidewalk for days now and it’s been more difficult than I’d imagined. Thankfully, I’ve stayed in decent shape over the years. Otherwise, the job would’ve been fucking embarrassing. I don’t want to look like a pussy next to some of the other men my age.

  By quitting time, I’m starving and not particularly in the mood for chit-chat. I’m an introvert by nature and after being surrounded by these guys all day, I just want to enjoy the quiet of my own company. I say a quick goodbye to the crew before heading to my truck, which is parked aimlessly on the side of the road. When it comes to food, there aren’t a lot of good options around this job-site. All the restaurants have bars—which is how I ended up in a small coffee shop a few miles away named Sufficient Grounds. I clean up my appearance, although, I know my efforts are basically futile. My unruly hair is worse than usual and my body is covered in dirt and sweat. My white T-shirt is so wet it’s practically molded to me like a second skin and my jeans are covered in mud. Well, fuck it. It’s not going to get much better than this. I jump out of my truck and head inside the coffee shop with the intention of making this trip as quick as possible.