Cassidy Nash.
His angel was named Cassidy.
Day picked up the driver’s license, and he grinned.
Now he had his angel’s address.
4
GOLDIE
Goldie woke with a loud groan, and his head was absolutely killing him.
What the fuck did he do last night?
He blearily stared at the two empty whiskey bottles on the coffee table.
Oh.
Right.
He managed to sit up, disturbing Purrcy, who had been cuddling next to him. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and fumbled around for his phone to turn off his alarm. He really needed to quit drinking so hard. It took a lot of liquor for a guy his size to feel anything, so it was damn expensive.
Not to mention he couldn’t just go by the store now and pick up more since he didn’t have his wallet.
Fuck.
Today was going to suck.
Stomach sloshing, he fumbled around the apartment to get ready for work. He sent a text to the manager of the gym to let him know he was going to be late. The tardiness had little to do with the hangover. He was always punctual even when he was feeling under the weather, but he needed time to run by the bank and try to make a withdrawal.
If not for liquor, he wanted to at least have a decent meal tonight.
He had an expired driver’s license he could use, figuring it was better than nothing. He hoped the bank would take it and not be dicks about it being expired. If not, there was no telling how long it was going to take him to get new identification, a new debit card, new everything…
Goldie sighed.
What a giant pain in the ass this was going to be.
He didn’t regret helping out the young man yesterday, but he wished he’d remembered to grab his stupid wallet out. He found himself hoping that the young man had somewhere warm to stay last night. He hated to think of him in an alley shivering, starving, and alone.
Now he was just making wild assumptions, but he wasn’t sure what else to think.
The young man hadn’t said a single word to him.
While the experience remained puzzling, Goldie also found it humbling. As miserable as he was this time of year, his life could be a lot worse. He took so much for granted when in fact he was very lucky.
He had a good job, a home with running water and heat, and he could buy groceries and medicine. Even after all of these years, he still got royalties from any wrestling merchandise sold with his likeness. He had the means to spoil his cat absolutely rotten and buy all the fancy treats and food she wanted.
He had a lot to be thankful for.
Two bad his depression didn’t give a shit.
After using the bathroom, Goldie pulled his pill organizer out of the medicine cabinet. He took his morning dose of steroids and anti-inflammatories plus an antacid to ease the inevitable stomach cramps. He needed to ease off the drugs for a while to give his ulcer time to heal, but he could barely walk if he didn’t take them.
“Damned if I do, damned if I don’t,” he mumbled.
He slapped a lidocaine patch across the base of his neck and then two more down on his lower back. He didn’t really think they did much, but he continued to hope that he could trick his body into responding to them to help get him moving.
