Prologue
JENSEN
September
The couplebeside me starts making out.
There goes her shirt.
And bra.
I barely blink. I’m too numb to care—or be turned on. Hell, it’s more irritating than anything. Just another reminder of what I’ve fucking lost. And what I’m about to do to forget her.
I sit up abruptly.Where the hell is Seth?
I sink back into the sofa with a sigh, glancing at my watch. My jaw aches. I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to ease the tightness. Shit. It’s locked up again.
Cupping my chin, I press my thumb and ring finger into the muscle. My pulse hammers in my chest, and I take a deep, slow breath… but it doesn’t help. My heart won’t settle.
Exasperated, I pull out my phone and text Seth.
Dude. Where the hell are you? I’ve been at this fucking party for over an hour.
My text immediately turns to read, and I stare at the screen. Nothing. The bastard leaves me on read.
Figures.
The guy lifts her skirt as she straddles him. I push up from the couch when he unzips his pants and she slips her hand inside.Jesus Christ. I’m about to witness full-on penetration.What the hell is wrong with people?
I pull at my shirt, airing it out from the sweat dripping down my back. I open and close my hand a few times. Everything’s tense. Someone laughs behind me and I wince, feeling wired and dead at the same time.
I shove my way through the bodies crowding the hallway. I don’t want to be around any of these fucking people right now. I’ll just have to meet up with Seth tomorrow.
I’ll need a bump, though, if I want to get home.
This penthouse is big. It reminds me of Matt’s. It’s dim, low music thumping in the background. Each beat grates across my nerves like a blade.
Everyone’s fucked up here, and the sexual tension is thick in the air. I’ve already had to push two girls off me. God, that’s the last thing I need—or want. All I care about is Alley.
And she’s gone.
It’s just pure survival at this point. Though, I’m not sure I even want that. I’ve been going from one hit to the next, overlapping, drinking, combining—anything to black me out, keep me from reliving the nightmare of her leaving me. I’m barely breathing. Just a walking pulse.
I took a leave from work. I don’t know if it was accepted. I don’t even know if I still have a job. It doesn’t matter.
Nothing does.
I stumble into the back room, the fog of smoke settling over me. There’s a couple on the bed having sex.
Nope, not a couple. I squint, bringing them into focus. A threesome—two naked chicks and one lucky bastard.
One of them glances over her shoulder, noticing me. She doesn’t stop. And neither do I.
I head straight to the dresser by the oversized window. Everything I need is right there. A tray, a cutting blade, a candle, foil, sanitation wipes—not that anyone gives a shit about that when they’re desperate.
I clench my jaw, pull the bag of coke from my pocket, and shake a fat line onto the tray. After zipping the bag, I shove it back into my jeans and roll a bill tight between my fingers. I press a finger to one nostril, about to lean down when I catch movement in my peripheral.
I glance over. There’s a guy about my age, slumped in the corner of the room. He’s curled up on his side, arms wrapped around his stomach. He twitches, a low groan falling from his lips.
