Renegade: The Alliance Chronicles, Book Six

Chapter 8

Asher

"Genuine friends don't judge one another. It's all about accepting your friend for whoever they are."

—from Sessions with Abigail Ramirez-Lee, Psy.D., P.C.

Seeing Mark, passed out, with his head on Liam's shoulders pisses me off. Probably more than it should. I feel betrayed. No matter how hard I try to cut Mark some slack, he always fucks it up. The more I think about it, the more upset I become.

Where's the light at the end of the tunnel? The one that absolves me for my mistakes. Yes, being his friend was a gigantic goof on my part, but Mark saved me years ago. I can't simply walk away when he needs me.

The confrontation brought back emotions that would have been better left buried. The things Mark said to me... I'm too raw psychologically to even face my wife.

Rihana witnessed what I was like the last time Mark left me behind. She saw me gravitate between despair and insanity. Remnants of my old self threatened to surface. When I made it through the storm, I swore I'd never put my wife through that shit again.

So I do the next best thing.

I drive to a destination where I might find a semblance of peace. Maybe an answer or two. Someone who'd listen without judgment.

§

Sitting in Zared and Tru's living room, I hold a tumbler of something amber-colored. When I said I needed a drink, I didn't even ask Tru what she gave me.

Still...

I had hoped to speak with Zared. Over time, we'd become friends. Our friendship is nothing like the one I share with Mark, but Zared is someone I can count on. Plus, he has a way of seeing things clearer than many people could.

My grandmother's signature, shabby chic, is sprinkled around the tiny house. The property belonged to my grandfather, and he gave to Tru and Zared as a wedding present. It's decorated like the guest house at the compound—an overstuffed sofa and matching chairs with lots of wood accent pieces.

Tru closes a door behind her and takes a seat beside me. "Sorry about that. Zared's been suffering from a migraine all day. His medicine knocks him out."

"I should have, like, called." Suddenly, I feel like an asshat—only thinking about myself.

"Nonsense. We're always here for you."

"How are the kids?"

Tru flashes a toothy smile. "Thankfully, they're asleep. I love them to death, but twins are a handful."

Another reason why I should have called.

"Hey, you can always talk to me. What's going on, Ash?"

Lifting the glass to my lips, I toss back the last of the alcohol and then mutter, "Mark's at the compound."

She groans. "How's he doing?"

"Not good. I had to bail him out. He got into a bar fight back in Defiance. Callahan locked him up overnight. It took, like, four boxes of supplies and ammo to set Mark free."

"Callahan's the militia leader, right?"

"Yeah." I set the glass down and stare at the floor. "It's like Mark's regressed. When we were teens, our lives revolved around fighting and getting high. If we weren't high, then we were drunk."

To hear me tell it, a person might think my life was shitty. Well, it was, but there were some wonderful times too. After I lost my family and my world shattered, most of the happy memories were with Mark.

Glancing up at Tru, I say, "It kind of, like, served a purpose."

"What type of purpose exactly?" Tru faces me with a curious expression.

"We were working through our issues. Mark's family couldn't accept him for who he was. I'd lost mine." I drag a hand through my hair. "He's back to getting drunk again. When I picked him up in Ohio, he promised to straighten up."

"Did he? Or was it just wishful thinking on your part?"

Recalling our conversation, I had told him he had to follow the rules. Mark never said he'd stop drinking. Still, that didn't erase my concern.

"It doesn't matter, Tru." My shoulders droop. Being Mark's friend has never been easy for me, but when I can sense his pain... Well, it's so much worse. "Something's bothering him, but he won't talk to me."

Tru curls her legs beneath her. "How do you know there's something wrong?"

"Weren't you, like, listening? The drinking?"

Honestly, coming here was a mistake. I thought Tru would understand. When it came to Mark Carter, sadly, no one understood him but me.

"I know he's your best friend, but maybe it's time you let him figure out his own mess." Tru rests her hand on my arm. "You freed him and brought him back to Los Alamos. You can't make him change."

Nodding, I say, "That's what my shrink told me. The thing is, Mark's like my big brother. I don't want to lose him because he's throwing his life down the toilet."

"But it's his choice, Asher," Tru insists.

"It's not that simple. He thinks no one cares about him," I tell her.

Tru squeezes my hand. "I think Mark knows you care for him."

"If he did, he wouldn't pull this shit." My chest tightens, and my thoughts freeze. I'm at a loss of how to help my friend.

"Do me a favor, Asher."

"What?"

"Call Rihana and tell her you're here." She taps my hand. "Do you want a refill or a beer?"

"I can't stay here. I need—"

"To relax." She stands and picks up the glass. "I want to watch a movie, and I'd rather not drink alone."

"Okay. I'll stay provided you've got popcorn."

"I think I've got some around here."

As much as it pains me to think it, maybe it's time I let Mark be Mark. I can't change him. I can't make him understand his life matters, at least it does to me.