“Jack, you’re freaking me out.”
“Don’t. Just… I think he needs you to put him back together.”
TWENTY-SIX
Miles
I don’t know how many days have slipped past. How many hours I’ve spent numb. How many bottles of whiskey are lying empty in the trash. If someone hadn’t loaded them all into a bag and thrown them away, I’d at least be able to count them up. Or try to.
As it is, I’m exhausted.
How long can I do this?
How many days can I drink away before I officially have a problem?
An annoying voice in the back of my head whispers that I’m probably already there.
It’s been like a goddamn parade through here for the last… I don’t even know. Calvin called to check in on me. Jason tried, too, but when he didn’t get anywhere, Erin showed up at my door. She talked. Said all the things she was supposed to. That it wasn’t my fault. I did everything I could. I went above and beyond what anyone could have expected of me. I gave my all.
That’s where shit went sideways. I fought her on everything she said. And with nothing left to say, every heartfelt statement twisted into a meaningless platitude for me to cast off, she conceded. Erin, one of my best friends, walked out the door.
Was that yesterday? The day before?
I peel myself off the cheap leather couch, leaving a layer of skin behind. I stink. I need a shower and food and a run.
An impatient fist pounds on the door, no pause between each series of head-splitting raps.
I stumble across the apartment and pull open the door, a simple, “Fuck,” falling from my lips.
“What do you want?” I grumble at Chance. “You here to blow sunshine up my ass, too? Don’t waste your time.”
I swing the door shut and turn away, wondering if I have anything to eat. Tacos and homemade guac would be fucking stellar right now.
“Fuck that. I have no interest in your ass or blowing anything.” Chance saunters through the door, letting it close with a bang.
“Then, why are you here? I’m on leave—vacation.” I snort a laugh at the thought. This is no fucking vacation. It’s a goddamn nightmare. “Anything you need for my project, Erin knows where to access it.”
“Nope. Couldn’t give a shit about work right now either.” He flops down on the couch I just vacated and wrinkles his nose as he looks around at my mess.
I rifle through the fridge and come out with a couple of beers. There’s not much else in there, so I’m going to have to sweet-talk him into driving my sorry ass to the liquor store. If that’s not a sign that I’ve fallen pretty far down the hole, I don’t know what is.
“This is all I’ve got.” I toss a can to him, but Chance looks at the label and sets it down on top of a pile of unopened mail on the table.
“No, thanks. So, uh, where you at with the chick?” He leans back and runs his hand over his stubble, the rasp echoing in the silence.
I slam my can of beer on the counter, foam bubbling out and running down my clenched hand. “The fuck, man? She’s dead. Where do you think I’m at?” I want to punch the stupid look off his face.
“The single mom? So, does that make you… like, the kid’s not your responsibility or anything, right?” He looks almost as confused as I feel.
“What? No, not Chloe. She’s… I’m sure she’s fine.” She has to be. I need her to be okay.
Chance waves a hand, brushing me off. “So, the mommy, she’s fair game? You done with her?”
“Yeah, we’re done.”
“Sweet. I’mma tap that ass, then. Figure if you’re this broken up, she’s got to be worth a little effort,” he says, neck cracking loudly as he twists his head.
Chance stands, and before he can take a step for the door, before he can even think of doing it, I am in his face. Shoulders back, chest puffed out, jaw tight as shit.
