“Mmhm.”
“Damn!You, Mr. Always Nice, cheated on your girlfriend?!” The amusement in my brother’s tone does nothing but heighten the shame I feel about it.
“Fuck off,” I growl. “Yes, but it’s not like I’m proud of it.”
“Bet she flipped her lid. Wait—does she know?”
“She knows. When she came here, completely unannounced, she saw us in a… compromising position, and figured it out.” I wince as that night replays in my mind and everything else that has followed since. That night seems to have been the catalyst of this all.
“Like, she caught you fucking?”
“Oh, fuck.Pleasetell me she walked in on you getting railed!” Knox blurts out, laughing.
“No, you fucking idiot. She saw us making out in the middle of the night.”
Knox snorts. “Well, that’s fucking boring.”
Everything feels too much. The room feels too small, my lungs feel too restricted, my heart hurts too fucking much. I can’t do this. “Can you guys get out? I slept like shit last night and want to be alone.” Mostly, I don’t want witnesses to the breakdown I feel coming on.
They look at one another, shrugging, before they both quietly get up and walk toward the door. Knox turns around as he’s about to leave. “In all seriousness, if you need anything, I’m here. It’s fucking hard watching someone you care about destroy themselves. It’s even harder knowing you can’t be enough to get them clean. I wish I had a magical answer for you, but he has towantto get clean. Hopefully, that’ll be soon, and before anything happens.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, unable to look either of them in the eye.
As soon as they’re gone, I pull my phone out. Not a single call or text from Crew. I wish that didn’t make my heart sink and my throat clog with emotion, but it does. Clearly possessing zero self-control tonight, I dial his number and bring the phone up to my ear.
It rings several times before eventually connecting to the voicemail. “Hey, it’s Crew. You know what to do.” Not wanting to leave a voicemail, I hang up, swiping over to our text messages.
Me: Hey, man. Can we please talk?
I don’t send. Instead, staring at the message for far longer than necessary. Eventually, I delete the entire thing and try again.
Me: I want to tell you how angry and hurt I am with you, but I don’t think you’d care, so why bother? I’m disappointed in what you’re doing to yourself, with zero regard for what could happen to you.
My thumb hovers over the send button, but something in my gut is screaming at me not to send it. Deleting the entire message again, I close out of the conversation, throwing my phone next to me on the bed.
Dread and worry coat my gut like mud.
Please, Crew. Please fucking choose yourself. Fight for yourself. Save yourself, and come back to me.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Crew
It’s been two days since Anderson stormed out of my house. At least I think it’s been two days. Maybe it’s been more. Who fucking knows anymore?
I’ve hardly slept, running on fumes and narcotics. Kalen left the morning after the fight. We stayed up all night partying. Well, it’s hardly considered a party, since it was only us two, but whatever.
He’s having a party at his place tonight that I’m going to. I’m not even sure what time it is now, actually.
“Fuck, where’s my fucking phone?” I keep setting it down and losing it. The volume is turned all the way off, because Anderson wouldn’t stop blowing me up. He thinks he can fucking walk out on me, and then call me? Fuck to the no.
He can eat shit and fuck right off.
Think Crew, where was the last place you had your phone?I head down the stairs, toward the kitchen. Maybe I left it on the counter when I got water.
Nope.
Living room, maybe?