The Lucky One (2) - Taylor Swift

41

"I know I fucked up," Michael's foot bounced in the back of the car as Grace shot daggers in his direction, "They're addictive! They gave an alcoholic oxy, it's not like I sought it out to begin with."

"You sought them out when your prescription ran out. You drank. She was right to kick you out because you're a mess! I love you, Michael, but gosh, I'm so disappointed! This isn't even tough love, you fucked up badly. You forgot my niece at pre-school, your own daughter. You want me to start calling you Robert? You're supposed to do better, we're supposed to do better. Gracie's coming around to the age where she's going to start remembering this shit, you want her first true memories of you to be her father strung out on pain pills?"

Grace's lecture was not helpful. He felt bad enough to call for help, but he had also hid it from her for months. He must've been high at the concert months back, must've been high on their birthday when they'd gotten together for dinner. He was good at hiding it and it was so dangerous, it was the very thing she was worried about happening to her which is why she opted for the Tylenol when she left the hospital and suffered through weeks of pain while healing.

She thought he had too, but Michael and Amber both hadn't said a word about the problems they were dealing with.

"I just- I just need a couple days on the couch to get myself together and then when I'm clean, she'll let me go home and everything will be fine."

Grace didn't like that idea, "Every room in my apartment is a cat paradise."

"I'm going to go through withdrawal anyways."

"Okay," she nodded weakly. She didn't know what to do. She was furious but she also didn't want him to feel like he couldn't turn to her. She had already almost lost him when he felt alone once, that had been enough to scare her forever even at twelve.

Michael was in the bathroom when Taylor got home from the concert, absolutely exhausted but also very worried, "Gracie? You didn't answer my call, babe. You okay? Where's Mike?"

"Hi," Grace was digging through Michael's backpack without his knowledge. It would be over her dead body that he snuck pills into their apartment and she was going to go through every inch of that bag to make sure there wasn't any inside of it.

"What's going on?" Taylor came closer, "Is that Michael's bag?"

"Amber kicked him out of the house," Grace sighed, "According to him, after the accident he got addicted to painkillers and today he forgot to get Gracie from pre-school and she lost her shit on him."

"What?" Taylor blinked at her, "And you brought him here? What were you thinking, Grace?"

"He's my brother, Taylor, I shared a uterus with him," Grace mumbled as she unzipped the next pocket and began to ruffle through it.

"He's on drugs! He needs help and he can't stay here."

"Are you going through my bag?" They had both been so caught up in conversation that they'd heard him come out of the bathroom. He looked awful, that was the first thing Taylor thought, he just looked awful.

"Yes," Grace admitted, "I was checking to make sure you didn't bring in anything."

"I can't believe you," he raised his voice defensively, "I told you I want to get clean and this is how you respond to that? By conducting a search of my things without telling me?"

Grace would have felt bad, she would have if her hand hadn't just wrapped around a plastic bag. She pulled it out and saw the little white pills, "This is getting clean?"

"That's none of your business!" Michael tried to snatch the bag away from her but she flinched at the quick movement and ended up stumbling backwards onto the sofa when he ripped it from her hands, looking up at him with fear.