But I’m not an idiot. His eyes are shimmering in anger, and he’s fuming; the heat of it radiating off him is like a fever. I know what it is, love. He’s in love with the girl and obviously heartbroken at the idea that her sobriety is being thrown away.
My heart skips a beat, flipping before sinking to the pit of my stomach. I know I would be in the same place he is if it were for someone I love, and I was forced to step aside and watch them basically kill themselves with drugs.
“I didn’t do shit,” I tell him. “I really didn’t. I don’t know how she got the drugs, but I didn’t do shit. I swear.”
Owen shakes Devon off, opens his mouth, and closes it before turning to storm off. I watch him go down the hall until he turns the corner and is out of sight. After a few minutes, I turn back to Devon, whose staring solidly at me. He looks ragged, tired, as if he was up all night long. Considering Gracie slept at my house, I suspect that he was up all night worrying about her.
“She got the drugs somehow,” Devon tells me, and his shoulders sag. “Look, I’m sorry that I broke it off with Kate. I just didn’t want to drag it on any longer and give her false hope for a life I could never give her.”
I cock an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”
Devon sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. “She wanted to get married. She wanted children. I can’t give her that because I don’t want that kind of a life with her. If I gave it to her, it would just make for a miserable life. For the both of us.”
I press my lips together, but I do understand. At least Devon had the decency to end it before they started a family together and ended up regretting it. “Look, man, the only annoying thing is when my sister pops up crying about the whole thing. What happened between you two is your business, not mine.”
He nods and looks right in the direction where Owen disappeared. “He’s just… really protective of Gracie. He’s struggling too. With everything. He just broke up with his girlfriend and was considering asking Gracie to have a relationship with him, but then we were called this morning…” His voice trails off, making him sound defeated.
I grimace at his lack of words. It’s pretty obvious he’s struggling to come to terms with things.
“She wasn’t high, if that matters at all,” I tell him.
Devon shrugs again, but this time shoves his hands into her pockets. “I don’t fucking know, in all honesty. We keep finding drugs on her, booze too. She claims that none of it has been hers, but… the evidence has kind of been stacking her. She pissed negative on her drug test yesterday, but she left on her own. Probably to get more.”
I shake my head. “If she tested negative, going out to get drugs right afterward doesn’t make sense.”
Devon shakes his head violently and steps back far enough to lean against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He stares at the ground. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say now. Devon just seems kind of lost at the moment. That’s the obvious difference between him and Owen. Owen’s angry and shows it. Devon’s lost and floundering, trying to hide it. He doesn’t seem to want to admit it at all. If I remember correctly, I think Kate once told me that Devon’s a therapist.
“Gracie’s slipped with sobriety before. Several times. This was the longest she stayed sober. I know addicts slip a lot. I know it matters when they come back into sobriety. That they try. That Gracie is trying, and she’s going to slip. I get that, but she keeps…” His voice cracks, and he shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair repeatedly. “She keeps lying. I don’t get why she keeps lying. If she just admits the truth, we can help her.”
I shake my head. “Addicts only accept help when they truly want it.”
His head falls back, and Devon looks up at the ceiling with partially closed eyes. “I honestly thought she wanted help; I really did.”
I look at the corner where Owen disappeared, silent for a long moment, and then back to Devon. “I think she does. But she’s gone so far in sobriety that she’s probably scared to admit she slipped. She probably doesn’t want anyone hating her for slipping.”
Devon drops his head and stares right at me, jaw set. Something simmers in his eyes, the same thing as Owen. It’s pretty fucking obvious to me that these men love her to death and just want the best for her. It makes it even worse to know that she got arrested at my house.
“What am I supposed to do?” he questions.
I shake my head, scratching my cheek. I think I feel stubble coming in. I’m going to have to shave. I hate stubble. It’s itchy and makes me uncomfortable. Plus, I need to be clean-shaven for my job. I learned a long ass time ago that clients don’t take me seriously if I look fucking homeless.
Devon is no longer looking at me. I don’t even think he saw my attempt at a response. I’m also pretty sure he wasn’t even really talking to me. He’s just talking to talk, to have his voice speaking, to get the thoughts out of his head.
I push off the wall and start off in the direction that Owen had gone. I hear Devon’s scuffling footsteps follow me. I don’t bother looking back at him or even trying to talk to him. He isn’t my friend; therefore, I don’t feel obligated to tell him that I know he’s following. Plus, I don’t think it matters. If he wanted a conversation, he would’ve started it by now. He hasn’t, and I’m not going to, so it’s a done deal.
We turn the corner and find Owen standing with a man with tufts of red hair bouncing on his scalp. He’s nearly bald; the red wraps around his scalp. Lines crease his face; his shoulders sag. He just looks completely run down. Just like Devon, he seems to have been up all night. I know he is without even asking.
Gracie’s big brown eyes are hard to forget. I close my eyes and see them clear as day. This red-headed man has the same color eyes, telling me they’re related. Considering his age, I easily guess that it’s Gracie’s father. Discomfort twists my stomach, and I suddenly feel like vomiting. These two men obviously know Gracie’s father. I don’t know how close they are, but I suspect that if Owen has suspicions about me, he will pass that information onto the man, and I will have to answer to him next. I’m not exactly fond of fathers of girls I like. I haven’t had a good history with them.
I backpedal and slam into a body. My eyes swivel to Devon, and I give him a tight-lipped smile and step to the side.
“Hey dad,” Devon greets.
Owen and the father both look at us. It’s only Owen glaring at me, though. The dad just looks exhausted, not about to kill me.
“Gracie’s tox screen came back negative again,” he tells us in frustration. “She wasn’t using.”
“She was in possession, though,” Owen points out, also sounding upset. “She was obviously going to use them if she hadn’t been caught.”