Do the job, then quit. That had been the deal, for the most part unspoken except for Jay's promises that he'd get him help afterwards. He didn't know what that meant for him, if he wanted to put him in a facility or force him through detox. He didn't ask. In retrospect he didn't really remember promising to quit. And now he wonders why he should, when there's the possibility he can keep both. He's too far removed from bad trips and blank spaces, too high again on his own power.
And everything he shot into himself when he got back. Jay wasn't here now anyway, he'd gotten in the car with Cole and his daughter, and good for them. Never let the man say he hadn't done anything for him. It's the kind of thought that has a lazy smile on his lips when someone comes knocking on his door, and he's hazy enough that he thinks he's happy to see just about anyone when he tugs it open. "Hey son."