Read Beneath the Stain - Part 3 for Free Online Page B

that Trav’s smell, his animal, had pervaded Mackey’s sleeping and waking in the past few weeks. Suddenly Mackey was comforted and turned on at the same time, and he was so not ready to deal with that.
    Slowly he licked his lips, still captured by Trav’s brown eyes. “This,” he said, too softly for Blake to hear, “is for boys who don’t have to go to rehab.”
    Trav nodded slowly. “You won’t always have to go to rehab, Mackey. But you do now.”
    Mackey took a step away and turned toward the entrance. Blake was already halfway up the walk, and Mackey expected that he’d just walk in by himself, like that.
    He was surprised and unsettled when Trav fell in stride next to him. “I can do this by myself,” he muttered.
    Trav bent and took his largest suitcase from him. “You don’t have to now.”
    Somewhat reassured, Mackey kept walking.
     
     
    T HEY CHECKED in, and, thank God and maybe thank some of that money they had rolling around, they got separate rooms. Mackey was both relieved and a little spazzed out about that, actually. His room was small, with a bed, a dresser, a desk, and a chair—much like most of the nicer hotel rooms he’d ever been in, except with fresh flowers and no minibar—but Mackey wasn’t used to sleeping alone. Most of the time, he’d slept in Gerry’s room, and on the odd times they hadn’t roomed together, well, Mackey had found ways not to be alone.
    The first morning, his phone went off at six, all the better to start the day with some good old-fashioned PT. He hit the Dismiss key with every intention of getting up, and then fell back asleep in the little spot between the bed and the wall.
    When the administrators—Dr. Cambridge included—came in to wake him up, he was fast asleep and nobody had seen him. If his phone hadn’t buzzed insistently in his hands, he could have stayed happily like that until noon.
    “Wha’?” he answered, remembering to hold it to his ear.
    “Mackey, where the fuck are you?”
    “Trav? I’m in rehab. You walked me here, remember?”
    “They’re looking all over for you!”
    “I’m asleep.”
    “I can hear that,” Trav replied with some humor in his voice. “ Where are you asleep?”
    “Same place I’m always asleep. Why?”
    “Never mind.”
    Trav hung up and Mackey went back to sleep—for a whole five minutes. This time Dr. Cambridge alone came in to get him.
    “Hi, Mackey—what are you doing down there?”
    “Is this a trick question?” Mackey squinted up at the top of the bed, where the nice doctor with the sweep of gray hair and the matching goatee was lying on the bed, peering over the edge.
    “Nope. First of all, I think we need to apologize.”
    “Wha’ for? I overslept.”
    “Yes, but until your manager called us, I didn’t realize you probably weren’t up for PT anyway.”
    Mackey squinted some more. “So maybe, ” he said pointedly, “you could let me sleep !”
    Dr. Cambridge smiled patiently. “No, Mackey, I think it’s best if we start you out in the same schedule as everybody else. The rest of the residents are out taking a morning walk—or run, if that’s their preference. How would you like to have a cup of coffee with me?”
    “Caffeine is okay here?” Mackey asked guardedly, trying to make sure it wasn’t a trick question.
    “Just fine,” Dr. Cambridge assured him.
    “Great. Lemme take a shower, okay?”
    “Fine, Mackey. Make it quick?”
    “Yeah, all right.”
    Mackey was a champion at the quick shower, and he soon found himself in the dining room, eating apple fritters (the ones Trav had brought him were better) and drinking coffee with Dr. Cambridge, who explained the stuff he’d been too tired and in too much pain to remember from the day before. He wiggled on the chair, grimacing, as Dr. Cambridge explained about the schedule, the therapy—both group and individual—and the trust and self-help exercises he’d be doing.
    He narrowed his eyes. “Trust? And self-help? Seems to