Gus reaches for it, too, yanking it from my grasp. He flips it, letting the remaining liquor spill out to soak the strike zone. “Where’s your truck?”
I scowl, annoyed by his intervention, but also too drained to really summon any annoyance. “Home. I walked here.”
“I’ll walk back with you. Just let me tell the guys.” Gus jogs toward where Wade and Ricky are still collecting balls, pausing to pick up the bucket that’s nearly empty.
I turn, shoving my hands in my pockets and heading toward the sidewalk. I make it about halfway down the block before Gus catches up to me. He doesn’t chastise me for walking off, and the guilt makes me feel even worse.
“Sorry,” I mutter as a blanket apology for this entire night.
I’m pretty sure it’s past midnight, but I’m not sure. I left my phone in my truck when I got back from the marina. No matter what time it is,this was a shitty way to start the new year.
“You’re better than this, Cap,” Gus tells me.
“I’m not. Obviously.”
He nudges my arm with his elbow. “You are. You’re just having a bad night.”
I blink rapidly, a deluge of exhaustion hitting me as I trudge along. My muscles feel leaden, soaked with rum and weighed down with self-loathing. “I’m like my dad.”
Gus grabs the sleeve of my coat, pulling me to a halt. “You’re nothing like that piece of shit, Cap.Nothing. You got a good arm from him, and that is it. You care about other people, not just yourself, and your dad never did.”
I shake my head. “He did. He loved Skylar. He let it all fall apart after losing her, you know?”
There’s so much pity on my best friend’s face. It makes me feel sick. The contents of my stomach are spinning like a washing machine.
I pull my arm away and continue walking. Gus does too.
“I’m always here to talk, Cap,” he tells me quietly. “I know it all sucks and nothing I say will fix it, but I’m always here.”
“I know,” I say thickly. “Thank you.”
We walk another ten minutes, past the library and Dunkin’ and the gas station.
“I did like her. She was … it was different.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gus has turned his head to look at me.
Before he can say anything, I add, “I don’t want to talk about it. Just … yeah, you were right.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
“S’okay,” I slur. “Was never gonna work out.”
We walk another block.
“Want me to come in with you?” Gus asks once we reach our neighborhood.
I shake my head, glancing at my house and noting the light on in a downstairs window. I don’t know how Mom can sleep in that room. She doesn’t, I guess.
“What time is it?”
Gus checks his phone. “Little after two.”
I sigh. “Happy New Year.”
“Drink some water, Cap,” he calls after me.
I wave a hand, acknowledging the suggestion, as I head up the front walk. The door is unlocked, so I don’t have to locate my key.
