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She nodded. “Mmhm,” she said quietly, lips pressed together and her eyes getting big.
“What?” Ryan said defensively.
“Nothing, nothing. He just…he’s…”
“Yes, Travis Kadin’s hotter than holy fuck.”
“He’s not as hot as you,” she reassured him.
“Yeah, thanks. Great. Moving on. He’s also a real problem, Mar. He and Ty are constantly fucked up. You know the Isles hired security to babysit them? Literally. They sit outside their rooms so they can’t sneak out and party. They’re not even allowed to hang out off the ice. He’s…Mar, I think he might be an addict.”
Amara shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Can’t say that surprises me. Look at his mom, Ryan. You know, I could see it in his face the last time I talked to him. Kept telling me he was tired, slurring his words. Gave him the benefit of the doubt, but…it makes sense. There’s a family history and he’s got an addictive personality. Remember his coke binge last year? Fuck.” She sighed. “So, what are we gonna do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Ryan, if he’s an addict, we have to get him some help. Before he really does something stupid.”
“It’s gonna have to come from you, Mar. He won’t listen to me. Thinks I’m just jealous of TK and being a drama queen. His words, not mine.”
“Are you? Jealous of TK?”
“Well, let's see. If some hot ass girl texted your man that she wanted to rip lines of coke off his pretty little abs, what would you do?”
“Beat a bitch down,” she replied instantly. “Holy shit. He texted him that?”
“Yup. Him and his fucking pierced nipples. If he hasn’t fucked him already, he’s going to. I’m not stupid. I can see it coming a mile away.”
“Ryan, Ty’s…not a cheater. And he’s in love with you. You know that.”
“Do I?” he snapped. “They were just together last night again. They’re not supposed to be hanging out, and somehow, they found a way.”
“Because they’re probably codependent on each other, Ry. Neither one wants to get fucked up alone, so if they do it together, it makes it feel normal to them. Validates it.”
“Thanks, Dr. McDonough. Didn’t realize you were such an expert.”
“Grew up around a lot of alcoholics, Ryan. This is right in my wheelhouse, unfortunately.”
“Well, then maybe you can talk some sense into him,” Ryan said, sighing in frustration. “Because he doesn’t listen to me. Thinks I don’t care about him anymore.”
“You don’t talk sense into an addict, Ryan. You know that better than anyone.”
“Then what do we do?”
“How bad is it? Seriously?”
“Amara, I watched him chase three oxys with a bottle of whisky he keeps in his nightstand a few weeks ago. And he didn’t see a problem with it. At all.”
She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “Rehab. He needs to go to rehab, Ryan.”
“There’s no fucking way he'll agree to go to rehab.”
“Then we make him.”
“What if he won’t go?”
“Then at some point, we’re gonna have to watch him die.”
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