Wasn’t this what they wanted? My sobriety.
Wasn’t this my re-entry into royal life? The shameful brother redeemed and saved after fifty days.
That’s all it took for salvation in the crown’s eyes. Fifty fucking days.
I twisted the cap off a bottle of water and began to chug.
After a few swallows, something Dr. Garcia had said in one of our sessions seemed glaringly obvious. Recovery is a lonely journey.
She was fucking right. After fifty days, I could admit that much. I frowned.
There were a lot of reasons I needed to atone. What was the other thing she said? Oh yeah, the rough Spanish translation: recovery was a long hike upward, not a walk down the street.
How many of those clever sayings did she have stockpiled for people like me?
Other addicts.
I never thought I’d be able to say it, but that’s what I was—an addict. My drug of choice was bourbon. Occasionally gin. I mixed it with women regularly.
The women didn’t care. I was second in line to the throne. It didn’t matter to them if I smelled like expensive booze, as long as my cock worked and they had the chance to moan my name when I made them come harder than they ever had. That’s all they wanted—to fuck His Royal Highness.
But the day I showed up drunk to a children’s library wing dedication was the final straw for the crown. My brother had ignored my addiction for too long. He had conveniently assigned morning events, banking on me being sober.
He pushed Kenley to manage all my habits, thinking she was going to stop me from taking a drink or a woman to my bed.
However the morning at the library changed the course of everything. I was finally able to drown out all his hope that day. He saw what an all-night bender looked like, and signed the royal order to send me to rehab. My brother, the king, took one look at me and admitted he had no choices left. I had backed him and the crown into a corner, something he despised.
I created a royal scandal. I mocked the family. Embarrassed my brothers and sister.
Rehab was my only path to redemption. I was off the rails by that point. Even I knew I needed help.
The letter crinkled next to my chest. Only, my family didn’t know what motivated me. Why this time I took it seriously. Why I put up a fight, but didn’t wage a war when they forced me into the car. I wanted to be stone-cold sober for once.
“We’re here, your highness.” Kurtis beeped in.
“Thank you.”
He pulled the car on the tarmac and parked in front of the jet. The Sauvage family crest glinted in the sun.
I took a deep breath. The door opened and I walked into the sun. Only this time I didn’t shield myself. There was only one way this would work. I had to prove I could walk in the light.