It’s Thursday.
What the fuck…
“Are you drunk?” Omar asks, stepping closer.
I lift my gaze to meet his as he eyes me carefully, with a furrowed brow and a wild look in his eyes that could be anger or panic… or both.
And I can’t even find the will to give a shit.
“Not yet,” I say, holding his stare.
He doesn’t look away as he stands across the desk, and his expression turns into a glare.
“You’re leaving me with no choice, Cade,” he says in a very calculated tone, like he’s holding back what he really wants to say.
A lump rises in my throat, and my vision turns hazy. I know I’m on the verge of losing everything right now, as I stand back and watch it all slide out of reach. My family, my job… Alder. Everything I’ve ever had a grip on is slipping through my fingers like I was never holding on at all.
And Iwantto reach for it… but I can’t.
My arms are too heavy, and it feels impossible.
The window where I can escape from all of this is closing faster each day, and all I can do is watch it. Because it’s easier than trying to push it back open. It’s easier to let everything gothan fight against the thing that’s been keeping me down for as long as I can remember.
It just fucking hurts.
Omar’s expression shifts for a brief moment as he watches me, and his features soften slightly.
But I blink it all away and drop my gaze.
“It’s one meeting,” I say, my voice quieter and more resigned than I intended. “I can meet with him today.”
“No. You can’t.”
My head jerks up, and his expression is hard again.
“I’m moving forward with a recommendation for contract review.” He shakes his head as his eyes sweep across the mess of my office. “This is out of control. I don’t know what else to do. I’ve given you every chance, and you don’t even seem to care.”
I push to my feet so suddenly, his eyes fly back to me with surprise.
“I don’t care?” I ask, staring right at him. “I’m fucking here, aren’t I?”
I show up every damn day when I need to, despite wanting to just disappear. When I just want to drink until I forget who I am. I’m fighting against myself every day to just show up and not give up. And he says I don’t care.
Omar watches me for a moment as his eyes search mine. “Barely,” he says.
That word slices into me like a blade, carving through what little I’m holding together.
I can’t fucking do this.
I grab my computer and shove it in my bag, and Omar doesn’t even try to stop me as I storm past him. And I do everything I can to not look at him. Because I can’t fucking deal with the disappointment I know is written all over his face.
But as I head down the hall, Annika appears at her door.
“Cade,” she says with wide eyes and a look of panic and pity. Which is even fucking worse. “Wait, please, are?—”
“Mind your fucking business,” I snap at her, and head right out of the building.
Fuck this.
