I slept like shit, too.
My thoughts were all over the place. I couldn’t stop thinking about Nate and Cole. Couldn’t process,stillcan’t process what happened or him being gone. It doesn’t feel real. I keep waiting to wake up, to realize this is some fucked-up dream.
But I don’t.
I’m awake.
And this is very much my new reality. My cousin’s gone. He’s been one of my closest friends since childhood.
And the anger—fuck. It’s right there under my skin. The kind that makes my hands shake. The kind that makes me want to put my fist through something.
Why Nate? He was good. A good friend. A good father.
There’s no reason. No meaning. Just loss. Just Cole being left fatherless in the middle of the night. I can usually turn my anger into something useful. Work. The gym. A deal. Something I can control.
But this?
There’s nothing to do with it.
I reach for my drink. Yeah, whiskey at seven a.m. Not my usual MO, but right now? It’s necessary.
I have no idea what the next move is. Cole’s my godson. I love him.
I know what Nate would’ve wanted. I know why he made me his godfather in the first place.
His family’s shit.
Just like mine.
That reality should terrify me. I know it changes everything, but… I can’t wrap my head around it yet.
My pulse punches hard at my chest.But what if I’m like my dad? What if I fuck him up?
I shove the thought away before it can take root.
I’m not.
I’m Matthew Grayson. I always find a way.
My thoughts drift back to last night. To Jordan. How great she was—is.It chokes me up just thinking about it. But at the same time, it cinches something so tight in my chest I can barely breathe.
I keep replaying it: her being there, her patience, her fingers in my hair, the way she held me while I fell apart like a fucking baby.
It didn’t even matter that her tank top was practically falling off or that my face was buried in her lap, because she wasn’t there for sex. She was there for me, like she always is when I need her most.
She stayed. All night long, she stayed.
For me.
And I just held onto her like she was the only thing that mattered.
I drain the rest of my whiskey, blowing out a slow breath as I savor the burn.It’s five o’clock somewhere.
“Would you like another drink, Matt? We’ll be landing in twenty,” Darrell says. He’s worked most of my flights since I bought my first plane. He’s older, reliable, efficient. I learned early on I prefer him over the younger women the charter company kept assigning. Darrell doesn’t flirt, and I don’t have to waste energy pretending to flirt back. I can just …be. He gets me. We get along great.
“Nah, I better not,” I reply.
I have to stay sharp, for Cole. Be a steady anchor. I most definitely can’t show up to my aunt’s house drunk, though the thought of seeing her is enough to make me want to drink myself to a blackout.
