Cash
Cash Brooks Is Not the Only One Suffering
When Cash Brooks suffered a blow in Boston that took him out of the game, his absence was met with frustration and disappointment. With a severe concussion as his diagnosis, fans are wondering if Brooks is now damaged goods. Already dropped down to the AHL last season for continual misconduct and suspected substance abuse, Brooks was given a second shot in the pros only seven months ago. It's rumoured the NHL's patience with Brooks is wearing thin, and when a team is frustrated with a player, other teams in the league know about it. And since Brooks has been off, he's been rumoured to have been using substances again. Santa Anna Tornadoes General Manager claims Brooks's inability to change shows a lack of character and judgement, and he has made his disappointment in Brooks clear. However, news broke Monday night that Brooks has entered Stage Two of the NHL-NHLPA joint Substance Abuse and Behavioral Health Program.
This isn't Brooks's first time getting into trouble off the ice. Only six months after his debut in the NHL, Brooks was admitted to a treatment facility for substance abuse. On the ice, Brooks has been a notoriously frustrating player. Blessed with size, speed and skill, Brooks is the total package but has come nowhere close to realizing his potential. When he is on his game, he is a dominant player, using all his tools to be effective. However, on many nights, he has been invisible.
With Brooks entering rehab, he is suspended without pay and can only play when doctors deem him fit enough to return. Recent news has linked Brooks to Quinn Ashby, the daughter of Hilton Ashby, the Tornado's President. Quinn Ashby is suspected to be why Brooks is finally seeking help. The intelligent and cute Harvard grad student is rumoured to be a positive influence and his biggest supporter. Brooks is still a young man with his entire life in front of him, and hockey will be waiting when he is ready. Hopefully, other players who are suffering will seek help, too, in the wake of Brooks' situation.
__________
I'm detoxing now. No, I'm beyond detoxing. I'm absolutely out of my mind. My brain doesn't work so well anymore. Hands? Shaking. Body? Aching. Head? Nauseated.
I try to sit on the bed, and the sudden movement makes my head spin. I collapse on the hard mattress and stare at the ceiling, watching the fan whirling above me. I'm trapped in this tiny room with nothing but a bed, toilet, and garbage can. I might as well be in jail. I'm stuck here, forced to detox every ounce of alcohol out of my system.
Time passes slowly. Painfully. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, though. Once I'm clean, I'll end up in the main rehab facility, ready to finally battle my demons.
__________
A voice whispers my name from far, far away. Since I moved from detox to the facility, I haven't left my bed in four days. I'm on a major downer. All I want to do is sleep. The voice whispers my name again. I open an eye and see my counsellor, Trina, approaching my bedside.
"Cash, Quinn is here to see you," Trina says cheerily. "Would you like to meet with her downstairs?"
"No. I don't want her to see me like this." My voice sounds far away. It doesn't even sound like my voice.
Jesus, I'm so miserable. Disgustingly, pathetically, miserable. Just the mention of Quinn makes my stomach feel queasy. Nausea sticks to my throat. I swallow. I breathe deeply.
"She's been here every other weekend to see you—"
"I said I don't want her to see me like this. Please get out. Tell her not to come back."
It's painful—no, it's unbearable—to send her away again. But I am not ready.
"Cash, are you sure this is what you want?" Trina asks cautiously.
"No, of course not!" I'm struggling to breathe again. There's no use in confiding in Trina right now. She can't help me, not when I'm such a mess. I exhale, and the air seeps out in a weak puff. "I know she's trying to be here for me, but it only worsens things. We agreed we were on a break. She needs to respect that."
Trina doesn't respond. She nods and closes the door behind her.
The last thing I wanted when I admitted myself was for Quinn to feel tied to me. What if I didn't recover? What if I couldn't defeat my addiction to be the man she deserves? The guilt was too much.
I needed my space. She needed to return to Boston without the burden of my problems. She's working on an MBA that she needs to focus on completing. I couldn't let my transgressions become her worry. Quinn was right. I did need to choose me first.
I've been feeling plenty of things. Sorrow. Frustration. Anger. The image of her breaking down in tears when I told her we needed to take a break, for fuck's sake, is the worst reminder in the world. I told her she didn't need to be in charge of cleaning up my mess, and I wasn't sure if I could ever get over this hurdle in my life. I couldn't live with myself knowing she was at Harvard burdened with the responsibility of being my girlfriend. At this rate, I'm not sure how I will ever recover.
___________
A few days later, the door opened, and I looked over, expecting to see my counsellor.
Instead, it's Hilton.
What the hell?
"Why the fuck, are you here? You don't give a shit," I snarl. "If you're here to reprimand me for my lawyer negotiating with the league to cover my bills and mortgage for the next three months, you can talk to him. I don't want to hear it."
Hilton doesn't respond. He walks over to the chair in the corner and sits down. He looks like he hasn't slept in days, and his clothes are rumpled. I didn't invite him here, and he's the last person I want to see. How did he even get in here? I need to approve all visitors. The fact he's here doesn't sit well with me. I need to be alone.
"I do give a shit. And, of course, I vouched for you when your lawyer requested that the league cover your bills while you're in rehab. You're my star player, and you needed help."
"And help from you always comes with strings attached. So what are you looking for this time, huh? Gratitude? Respect? Me to walk away from Quinn again? Forget it."
"Quinn doesn't know I'm here. She still refuses to speak with me." His voice is hoarse. I can hear the pain laced in his words. "I'm not here to meddle, threaten, or destroy what you have going on with my daughter. But we need to talk."
There is nothing Hilton can say that I want to hear, but I remain silent and wait. The quicker he gets out what he has to say, the sooner he'll be gone.
"I know I've ruined any chance for her to trust me again." He stops and looks over at me. "When her mother, Anne, was suffering, I abandoned her over and over and over again by choosing my career over her and refusing to accept that she needed help. I hid her problems from our family, our friends, and the media. I was in serious denial. I left all the responsibility for my wife's illness to Quinn. I refused to deal with it because I was so damn angry with my wife. But when it comes to Quinn's relationship with you, I don't want her to make the same mistakes, and I don't want you to push her away or resent her as my wife did with me. Quinn loves you. And she's not scared to stand by you through this darkness like I was. It's my fault her mother's illness went untreated for so long. I ignored that she was suffering and turning to alcohol to self-medicate her depression. I'm the one who let her suffer in rehab alone. Somewhere along the line, I started hurting the people closest to me, including Quinn. And I haven't figured out how to stop."
I shake my head. "If you want to stop being a dick, Hilton? Then do it."
"And if you want to do right by my daughter, then accept her love and support and clean up your act to be the man she deserves."
"I want to."
His eyes go soft, and he briefly closes them. I've never seen Hilton show emotion.
"My daughters are my life. And my wife, Quinn's mother, Anne, was the love of my life. She was gorgeous, creative, and bold, just like Quinn. And she looked just like her—loose, long brown curls and big emerald-green eyes: that damn cute button nose and lightly freckled cheeks. I loved my wife, Brooks. We met when I played in Washington, my first year in the AHL. She was the life of the party. Quinn's mother could light up her room with her smile. But once Lyndsey was born, my wife's mental health and addiction skyrocketed. Quinn remembers seeing her mother suffer from an alcohol addiction as a child, but she has no idea how sick her mother was. And even though I know deep down her mother loved her girls, she ended up choosing her addiction over them. As much as I tried to get her the help she desperately needed, her daughters weren't enough of a fight for her. I figured if I tried to control my daughters, I could protect them from ever having to live through the pain and agony that I lived through with their mother. But the funny thing is, Brooks, by admitting yourself into this place, you're a better man than I'll ever be and a stronger person than her mother. All these years, I've tried to shield Quinn from all that's terrible in the world, but what I didn't realize until now is that Quinn is capable of taking on the good, the bad and the ugly all on her own because she's a strong and independent woman and she loves you. I've been the bad guy for trying to control her."
"Nah, Hilton. You're not wrong. She deserves better," I say it aloud instead of just chanting it in my head.
"She wants you. Don't you see? This is a chance, a clean break for you to deal with your demons and be the person and talented hockey player you were meant to be."
"That will never happen."
He wipes away the rest of his tears and stands up. "Yes, it will. If you don't take this seriously and get the proper help you need, you'll spend the rest of your life wishing you were a different man. Don't you dare let Quinn down as her mother did? Do what she couldn't. Be there for Quinn. Get Clean. And when you do, Quinn and the ice will accept you back."
Hilton turns and walks out without another word.
__________
Over the last two months, I've focused on completing the twelve-step program and getting better. As much as I've wanted to be sober for myself, knowing Quinn is waiting for me on the other side of those doors has kept me sane and determined. The doctors have finally given me the okay. I've been deemed fit to return to the real world—clean and healthy. For the first time in my life, I feel ready to tackle a life without alcohol. And a big part of that reason is Quinn. She is the love of my life.
Today is the first time I will see her since I was admitted into the program. Three whole months without her has been hellish, but the last thing I wanted was for her to see me struggling and at my worst. I needed her to stay focused on her studies and not worry about my recovery. The timing couldn't be better because she finished her last exam yesterday and landed in Santa Anna this morning. She texted me an hour ago that she was on her way to pick me up and had good news. I can't wait to see her beautiful smiling face.
"Congratulations, Cash." Trina leans forward and gives me a quick hug. "You did it. I'm proud of how far you've come."
"Thanks, Trina." I peer at the entrance. "I'm ready to get back on the ice next season."
"Is Quinn picking you up?" she asks.
"Yeah." I picture Quinn's doe-like emerald eyes and seductive smile, and my heart clenches. "I can't wait to see her."
I hope she hasn't moved on...
Trina bade me farewell and wished me the best of luck before she left the waiting area and walked back into the secured facility. I sit on a nearby sofa and try to wait patiently for Quinn to arrive, but I'm both nervous and as excited as a horny schoolboy to see her. I start pacing around the waiting area, glancing at the entranceway. Every muscle in my body tenses when I see Quinn walking toward me. She looks beautiful, and seeing her walk through the automatic door takes my breath away.
Her face lights up when she spots me.
I freeze in place, watching her run toward me. Chocolate-wavy hair, the same red lips I've kissed a thousand times, the same wide emerald eyes. Quinn looks stunning in a light-blue maxi dress and white sandals peering beneath the ruffled hem.
When she throws her arms around my neck and wraps her legs around my waist, it takes a moment before I release a natural breath of air. I bury my face into her neck and inhale her familiar scent. Her tears trigger mine, and suddenly, we're both crying. Quinn buries her face against my chest as her whole body shudders in silent sobs. I don't know who kisses who first. But my heart swells with love when our lips lock for the first time in months.
"God, I've missed you," Quinn mumbles into my mouth.
I break our kiss, brushing the backs of my fingers along her arm. It's soft and smooth, and I love how goosebumps spread along her skin. "You have no idea, Mittens."
She meets my eyes, sizing me up. "You look amazing."
"You don't look so bad yourself," I growl against her ear. "Please tell me I'm still yours. I don't need alone time anymore."
"Always." A slow smile curves her lips. "I've been going crazy without you. I've missed you so much."
"I've missed you too. I can't wait to take you home." I thread my fingers through her hair and tip her head back, forcing her to look at me. "It's been hell without you."
I kiss her. Soft and sweet, no tongue. Just my lips brushing hers over and over again. When I part my lips to invite her tongue, she pulls away.
"I'm so proud of you," she says.
"Thanks, babe."
"And to make this day even better, I have the best news."
"And what's that?" I put my hand on her back, guiding her through the doors and toward her vehicle.
Quinn digs around in her purse and pulls out a folded paper. "Daniela signed the divorce papers. No questions asked, with all of your conditions granted and accepted."
She holds the document in her hands, and if I hadn't seen Daniela's signature on the dotted line myself, I wouldn't believe it. But something about Daniela's lack of fight causes my skin to crawl. It worries me that she's conceded without kicking back. That's not Daniela's style.
"Why aren't you happy?" Quinn's brow furrows. "It's over. You're free. We're able to be together with no messy past."
"I am happy," I assure her. "But I don't trust Daniela. She's being too compliant. Too agreeable. It worries me. She's up to something."
"You're being paranoid." Quinn drops her hand to her side. "This is the start of a new beginning. The first day of the rest of our lives together, Brooks."
My fingers trail down her ribs and over her flat stomach. I meet her eyes, lifting a brow as I run my hands over her thighs. "You're right. And right now, I only want to go home and be with my beautiful girlfriend."
"I like the sound of that." Quinn smiles. "But I've got one more surprise."
"What's that?"
"We're getting out of here for an entire week. The last thing you need right now is the media banging your door. We're going to Thompson. Just me and you. Flight leaves in two hours."
"Mittens," I say, bending to kiss her cheek, "that's the best surprise ever."
"Here." Quinn places the keys in the palm of my hand. "Let's get going."
Silence passes as we both look down at the keys, and I finally comprehend what she expects me to do with them in my palm. She wants me to get behind the wheel and drive. I reel from the knowledge that she believes I can do this. I can see it in the way her pulse beats wildly in her throat and the confidence in her eyes.
"Quinn, you know I can't—"
"You can, Cash. This is your fresh start. You can do this. You can get behind the wheel again."
I stare at the keys in my palm and feel comfort, knowing Quinn believes in me. She is right. I can do this.
"Okay." I grin as I open the passenger door for Quinn, and she slides on the leather seat.
I sit down behind the wheel, straighten up, and stick the key into the ignition. Quinn smiles over at me. Her eyes are bright, her face a bit giddier than usual, but other than that, Quinn looks entirely at peace.
I leave the parking lot and pull onto the highway toward the airport.
I'm ready to do this. I'm ready to move forward and never look back.