His shirt’s soaked in vomit and his skin’s slick with sweat. He looks like he hasn’t eaten in days.
My brows furrow.Fucking loser.He looks one hit away from dead.
I turn back to the tray, shaking my head. Junkies like that end up on the streets with nothing and no one.
Pressing my finger against my nostril again, I lean down, but the thought slams back into me, loud and disturbing and impossible to ignore. It wedges itself into the hollow parts of my brain—the parts that used to be filled with something real. Memories. Meaning. Alley. Work. Family.
My hand falls to my side.That was me.
I whip back around, eyes locking on the guy again, heart pounding in my chest.Holy fucking shit. This was me two weeks ago. The night Alley left.Is this what she saw when I came home?
A cold wave of clarity knocks the breath from my lungs, and I lean against the dresser, needing something to hold me up. I close my eyes, scrubbing a hand over my face, like maybe the haunting image will disappear when I open them.
It doesn’t.
For the first time, it’s like I’m seeing myself through Alley’s eyes. And I hate what I see. I can’t take it.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and freeze—the bill still in my hand. The line still waiting.
Swallowing, I look down at the coke, then back at the guy. I clench my fist, opening and closing it again.
Fuck. Is this who I’ve become?
Is this what she sees when she looks at me?
I drop the bill onto the tray, stepping back like it’s a loaded gun. Because itfucking is.
Sweat beads down my forehead, and I swipe at my brow, nausea rising, feeling sick as hell.
What the hell happened?I’m not this guy. No fucking way.
Do I really want to be the guy who lost his wife to drugs? Is that my story? My legacy?
My stomach knots, chills following.
I don’t want this. I don’t want to be this guy. I’m successful, smart, motivated—hell, I’m a good time. I’m the guy that Alley Evans fell in love with. She’d never fall for this guy on the floor. Sheleftthat fucking guy.
I’m so much better than that. So much better thanthis.
I back away from the line. My heart pounds in my head as I take one last look at the guy on the floor. I turn and walk toward the door, shaking my head as moans echo behind me.
I push through the crowd again, my shirt clinging to my skin, anxiety climbing. I need to get the hell out of here. Fear grips my chest as I step into the elevator, exhaling slowly. I’m not takinganother hit. My mind’s made up. But the second I think it, my hand slips into my pocket and wraps around the coke.
Just one more.
Fuck.
No.
I grip the coke, the sting of tears threatening.I can’t fucking do this. I need it. Just one more.
I clench my jaw so hard it aches.I’m stronger than this. I have to be.I press my back against the elevator wall and sink to the floor, forcing myself to think of one thing.
Alley.
I want her back. Ihaveto get her back. I won’t lose her.
I can’t.
