“I don’t know if you know this, but Mom is seeing Mason. You don’t have to worry about her anymore. He’s good to her and she’s finally happy.”
I sit silently for a moment playing with the string on my hoodie before I continue.
“Logan bought the yellow house, Dad. He moved back home and right back into my life. I was scared – I still am – but we’regoing to try again. I never stopped loving him and now that he’s here I want to make it work. We missed out on so much time together, but now we finally get to be happy too.” Standing, I brush the leaves and dirt from my pants. Then I kiss my fingers and press them gently to his name. “Bye, Daddy. I’ll be back before the snow comes. I love you.”
Chapter Forty-Three
“Get up, asshole!” Riot demands, nudging my foot with his work boot.
“Just leave him there. Consequences of his own actions and all that.”
Squinting, I look up to see Carson sitting on top of my counter, obnoxiously slurping a fancy ice coffee.
“No, I need to look at his hand and get him cleaned up.” I watch Riot through blurry eyes as he leaves the room and returns with the first aid kit I keep in the laundry room. Opening it, he takes out what he thinks he will need to doctor me up.
“He’s definitely not going to be able to work this week. I hope he doesn’t have many clients to reschedule.” Carson stirs his drink with his straw before taking another noisy mouthful.
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not right here,” I grumble from where I’m lying flat on my back on the cold tile floor. After Hannah left, I plopped myself down here with a bottle and apparently this is where I stayed. Groaning, I sit up and squint at Carson. “What time is it?”
“Just after 10 a.m. Get up,” Riot answers for him.
“What’s your problem, man?” I glare as I use the counter to pull myself upright. Every muscle and bone hurts. I can’t saythis was my best decision lately. I could have at least chosen the couch in the living room to pass out on. I’m freezing.
“Don’t poke the bear, Logan. Riot’s big mad.” He shakes his head with wide eyes.
“Do you want me to list my problems? Because I will.” Riot mutters.
Sitting down, I place my elbows on the kitchen table and hold my head in my hands. “Sure, let’s hear it, big guy. But before you start, can someone grab me some water and Tylenol?”
Jumping down from the counter, Carson finds what I need and places it in front of me. “I got you, buddy.”
Riot sits down across from me and slides the first aid supplies within reach. “Give me your hand.” he demands.
Narrowing my eyes at my friend, I slowly extend my hand towards him. Grabbing my wrist, he twists my hand back and forth to assess the damage.
“Fuck, watch it, that hurts,” I say, to my angry friend.
“Stay still,” he demands as he douses my cut knuckles with peroxide.
“Jesus, fuck, shitthat hurts,” I yell, trying to pull my hand away.
“I know,” he smirks, “if you hadn’t been a dumbass and actually cleaned it out with soap and water last night, you could have avoided that. Now, stay still,” he insists.
I watch him use a sterile pad to wipe away the dirt and debris left behind before applying antibacterial ointment to each knuckle. Taking a gauze bandage wrap, he dresses my busted-up fist. After checking his work, he sits back in his chair and looks at me.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he tips his chin up. “You look like shit.”
“Gee thanks, man,” I reply sarcastically before taking a drink of my water.
Carson walks to Riot’s side of the table and spins a chair so he can sit backwards on it. They’re both staring at me.
“Is this an intervention or are you presenting a list of your problems?”
“This has tostop,” Riot booms, slapping his hand on the table.
“What?” I look around the room in feigned innocence.
“Every time you have a minor inconvenience or disagreement, you are not going to drink away your feelings. You’ve been there and done that. Get a hold of it before it gets a hold of you. Got it?”
