She sat, staring at the closed door. The one he'd just walked out after she told him to leave. Brennan toyed with calling someone, anyone, to come sit with her.
But the phone calls would require explanations and answers she didn't have. Answers she certainly wouldn't find starting at the back of a closed door.
She stared anyway.
His vehicle hadn't left the driveway, she'd been watching for the sweep of lights through the windows at they hadn't come.
Was he waiting for her to change her mind? Was he contemplating everything that was at stake?
Did he even have a place to go for the night?
It wasn't fair that she should feel guilty. He'd risked their lives to make bets that had amounted to nothing more than losses. He should be the one who felt guilty, not her.
And it wasn't just money he'd lost this time. He was in danger of losing everything that he held dear. Was throwing him out going to be enough to remind him of everything that was at stake?
And he wouldn't be the one explaining to their daughter why her father was gone. Again. He wouldn't have to come up with words for questions that had no answers.
It was left up to her.
And she was frustrated with herself that she felt angry about it. Because it hadn't always been her husband's fault.
"Damn you, Booth," she muttered, swiping angrily at tears. Knowing that addiction was a beast never truly tamed. Sure, you could cage it for awhile, but it was always there, stalking, waiting for an opening, a weakness in the cage that held it.
Booth's cage had been full of weaknesses lately. The prison time, the loss of Sweets, the case involving gambling, any one of those was enough to break a few bars. Combined together, Brennan would be amazed if there was any of the cage left Booth had built so carefully over the years.
A closed door between them that might as well have been made of concrete. That's how it felt to her, so heavy from the emotions that filled the room, the house.
She'd known, or at least suspected that this was going to happen. It hadn't stopped her from hoping that it wouldn't. But the evidence was there, and she'd done her best not to see it. She'd consciously made the decision not to think about why he wasn't carrying his chip, something he never went without. Why he suddenly gifted her with a necklace, something so unlike him she hadn't dared look any closer. Sure, he'd given her random gifts before, but nothing that felt so extravagant. At least, when it wasn't around some holiday he believed so strongly in.
So Brennan had waited. For the signs to disappear. For the other shoe to fall. She'd so desperately wanted to be wrong.
Why did she always have to be right?
Knowing she didn't want to be alone, despite the fact she wasn't sure she could even talk yet, Brennan picked up the phone.
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"What's going on Bren?" Angela asked before she was fully through the door. "I thought Booth was back. What happened?"
Angela had known something was going on with her best friend. Something that Brennan hadn't been ready to share with her. So she'd bided her time, watching and waiting. She'd seen clues, but hadn't been able to put them together to come up with a complete picture.
But the late night phone call still came as a surprise. Promising to let Hodgins know what was going on, Angela had broken several rules of the road to get to the house in a hurry.
"I threw him out," Brennan said, sighing heavily as she closed the door behind her friend. But not before she glanced out toward the driveway. "He isn't still out there?"
Angela tossed her purse to the floor and slowly took off her coat, trying to form her thoughts. "You threw Booth out?" she said, urging her brain to catch up. "As in, he's not welcome to live here right now, threw out? And no, there wasn't anyone out there." Except for the SUV she'd barely taken notice of parked across from the driveway. Had that been Booth?
"Yes, Angela," Brennan said. Taking her coat, Brennan hung it in the closet, grateful for something to do. In the time since she'd called Angela, Brennan had found it hard to sit still. The kitchen counters had already been cleaned. Twice.
She hadn't heard Booth go, but hadn't really been listening either. Where would he go? There was no couch in his office, he couldn't sleep there. He was too proud to ask for help. Would he sleep in his car?
"Why, Sweetie?" Angela asked, forcing Brennan to add her new concerns to the ever growing list she was keeping in her head. "You wouldn't do that without a good reason. What happened?"
"He's been gambling," Brennan answered, alarmed to realize she was crying again. She looked down to see a tissue in her hand, not remembering where it had come from. She used it to quickly swipe at her face. "His bookie threatened Christine and I. Don't worry about that," she added at Angela's alarmed look, "Aubrey took care of it. So when he came home with his bag tonight, I confronted him and threw him out."
"Come sit down," Angela ordered, taking her by the hands and guiding her toward the couch. "You've had quite a shock. Are you and the baby feeling okay?"
Brennan gave a watery laugh, but allowed herself to be led to the couch. "Physically, we're fine. No contractions or anything like that. As for the rest…," she waved her hand in the air, "it's all jumbled up."
"Of course, it is," Angela reassured her. "Anyone's emotions would be messed up right now. It's okay to be confused."
The snort surprised Angela. "I'm not confused," Brennan said confidently, despite the tissue and her watery eyes. "In this matter, I'm quite clear. Booth gambled and in doing so risked our lives. Until he gets that under control, he cannot be under this roof."
"I'm not going to argue about it with you, Brennan. I don't think you made the wrong choice."
A sigh filled the silence. "Do you think you could just sit with me for awhile?" Brennan asked. "I don't really want to talk about this anymore. I just want to sit."
"I'll get us some water," Angela said, before hurrying to the kitchen. Before grabbing several bottles from the fridge, she took the time to text her husband. It looked liked it was going to be a long night.
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He threw his bag into the back of the SUV before slamming it closed and climbing into the driver's seat. Every move was sharp, completed with as much force as he could expend. Car door, slammed so hard a dog up the street starting barking. Keys, shoved so hard into the ignition he was surprised they didn't snap.
"A mistake," he muttered under his breath, twisting the keys to start the vehicle. He was cold, but wasn't sure the car heat would be enough to drive away the chill that had settled into his bones.
"Damn it, Bones, it was just a mistake. I have it under control. I can stop anytime I want to." The car flew from the driveway into the street. With a little more control, he backed up and parked where he could see his own driveway from the position.
The irrational angry part of himself, in a voice that drowned out everything else, was sure she'd take off with Christine again. Take his daughter away from him where he'd never find them. Max would help her this time, too.
A small voice he could barely hear reminded him that she wouldn't give up that easily. That she'd stay and fight as long as he fought, too.
It was the same voice that had been trying to stop his descent into gambling for weeks. The one that had practically begged him to ask her for help.
That voice had steadily gotten quieter over those weeks. Tonight, it had apparently decided it was time to start fighting back as well.
But Booth wasn't ready for that voice, not yet. Wasn't ready to accept that this was more than a simple mistake.
He'd put Bones at risk. Put his children at risk. That thought, more than the idea that she'd thrown him out, that he couldn't even see his daughter, caused his heart to race more than any of the others.
His family had been at risk. Because of the decisions he'd made, the pride he'd refused to get past.
All he'd had to do was ask. To admit what he was facing, what he was fighting.
Instead, he'd chosen to go alone.
And lost everything.
Booth waited until Angela's vehicle drove past him and pulled into the driveway. Bones needed someone to help her, and she hadn't been able to turn to him.
That hurt, too. It seemed the fates wouldn't quit piling it on this evening until he was buried.
Pops had told him once that when you found yourself in a hole, especially one you had dug yourself, the first thing you had to do was stop digging.
His gambling was the shovel. In order to stop digging, he was going to have to put it down.
Sighing, Booth rubbed a rough hand over his face. He hadn't slept in what felt like a week. It was long after the time when most people were in bed.
Despite the hour, he picked up his phone and pulled up his list of contacts. A deep breath, and he pressed down on it. Hard. In the silence of the vehicle, he could hear it start to ring.
The voice at the other end was groggy, but clear. The man had obviously recognized the number and knew why Booth would call at this hour.
"Seeley? What can I do for you?"
Looking up the driveway, Booth could see the flicker of lights on the trees. She would wait for him. It was up to him to take the steps to go home again. "We need to talk," Booth said softly. "I need some help."