“And he answered?” He hadn’t when I knocked.
“After a few minutes,” Kieran hedged.
“How was he?”
“Said he was asleep.” Kieran looked down at me. “I think he’s an addict.”
I gasped. “How dare you accuse my friend of being an addict?”
“He wasn’t even your friend until five minutes ago.”
I pinched his nipple and twisted.
“Oww!” Kieran howled, trying to shift away from my fingers. But he couldn’t get away without dropping me, and it seemed that was something he didn’t plan on doing.
“Ooooh-hooo,” Ghost squealed. “This is better than reality TV.”
“Put me down,” I muttered.
“I like you where you are.”
“Rett is not an addict,” I declared. “Why would you even say that?”
“Because he started crying about?—”
“You made him cry!” I demanded.
“Can we pause this?” Ghost asked. “I need a snack for the shitshow.”
“I needed to know where you were. He was acting suspicious and not telling me anything, so I pulled out my gun.”
“Oh, no, he didn’t,” Ghost mused.
“You pulled a gun on Rett,” I repeated. “Why do you even have a gun? Aren’t you in real estate?”
Kieran looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. A rotten one. “It’s for protection.”
“Just tell me what happened,” I said, wanting to know about Rett.
“He started crying, saying he didn’t know anything or hear anything because he was asleep.”
“Sus,” Ghost put in.
I shot him a bad look.
He shrugged, completely unbothered. “Sorry, half-pint, it’s the truth.”
“Stop calling me that,” I snapped.
“That’s what I thought too. So I pulled out my gun for some extra motivation. That’s when he went on about taking some pill.”
“Ooop, there it is,” Ghost sang.
He was like a walking TV commercial. Always making noise.
“Something about pain,” Kieran added.
I sagged into his arms. “I knew he wasn’t feeling well,” I said, remembering the last time I’d seen him. “I asked if he was okay, and he said he was fine, just tired. I should have pushed. Maybe taken him to a clinic.”
