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“You’re not the only one who lost Mam and Jamie, Noah.” Rich glances over his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay, but I can’t look at you right now.” He storms out, leaving me standing awkwardly in the room with Noah.
“Best go run after the overdramatic arse,” he mutters.
I frown. From the sounds of it, Richard’s under a lot of stress from his brother doing some pretty stupid shit. But I’m sure Noah’s acting out for a reason.
“Your da told him you could have died, and he’s been a wreck ever since.”
He looks away from me, huffing. I consider going after Richard, but if this is really to do with their ma and Jamie dying, then maybe I can get through to Noah.
“Drinking doesn’t make the pain go away,” I say, pulling up a visitor chair to the side of his bed.
“What?” He turns to look at me.
“Alcohol. It might make you feel good, might make the voice in your head stop for a while, but it doesn’t deal with the fact they’re gone.”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, I do. I’ve gone through it all—grief, loneliness, depression. Drinking never helped, it’s just a—”
“I don’t fucking drink!” Noah shouts.
“You gave yourself alcohol poisoning.”
“Not on purpose, for fuck’s sake. It was … it was an accident.”
I move the conversation along, not wanting to argue with him. If it really was an accident then hopefully he’s scared himself. “I don’t think Rich is really angry, you just scared the shit out of him, that’s all.”
“I don’t give a shit about Rich. He didn’t think twice before fucking off to Scotland, so he can’t pretend to care now.”
“He does care,” I say firmly. Listening to him have a panic attack on the journey here was enough to tell me he loves Noah, no matter what he says.
He screws up his face. “Who the hell are you to say that?”
“I’ve known Rich for years, I—”
“You don’t know me!”
His face turns red as he starts having a coughing fit. I take a step towards him, but think better of it.
“I can say what I want about my brother,” he rasps once the coughing stops. “I can drink what I want. And I can do what I want, and not one of those things concerns you.”
He’s right. None of it concerns me, other than the fact he’s hurting my best friend.
“Get out.”
“Noah …”
“It’s none of your fucking business! You don’t know me, get the hell out!” He reaches for the alarm button and presses it repeatedly.
A nurse comes in and eyes me warily. “Is there a problem, Mr Blackwood?”
“I want him gone.” Noah points at me, and I glare back.
“No worries, I’m leaving.”
ROBBIE
My alarm blaring at four in the morning is like knives scraping against my brain. I groan, reaching over to turn it off.
