Caleb…Caleb, help me.
I cracked open my eyes to darkness. But I didn’t move, not yet. One tiny flinch and the fantasy would slip away, taking the image of Ryth along with it.
“Not yet,” I whispered, my voice a burning croak. “Please, not…yet.”
The stench of cigars and pain clung to me, my shirt, my soul. I tried to force away the realization. Only it didn’t matter how hard I held onto her. She faded anyway, slipping away into the nothingness.
An ache tore across my chest. I forced myself upwards to sit on the side of the bed, kicking the empty Scotch bottle on the floor, my senses sharpening. Silence waited for me. Numb, stony silence. The kind I didn’t like.
I shoved up from the bed and swayed. My body ached, but my head felt worse. I rubbed the throbbing ache in the back of my head and slowly made my way to my bedroom door. In the split second when my hand landed on the door handle, I thought maybe this had all been a bad dream and none of this was real.
Nick hadn’t almost died. He was playing Call of Duty in his bedroom while he made his next million. And Ryth was in her bedroom down from mine, working hard on the school assignment she had to submit next week. One I’d work hard to distract her from with a night spent in my bed.
But the moment the door cracked open and the emptiness rushed in, it hit me.
It wasn’t a bad dream, every bit of it was real.
She was gone.
Nick was alive, barely.
And our father and her mom were to blame for it all.
I stepped out onto the landing and glanced to T’s room. The bitter stench of his hate still lingered. My brother was a train wreck in slow motion. He’d already left the tracks, already hurtling toward whatever darkness waited. But I could no more help him than I could help myself.
My phone vibrated, still in my pocket. I flinched at the sensation, realizing I was still dressed in the clothes I’d worn last night…last night. Memories invaded, making me swallow the bile in the back of my throat and think about raiding my father’s liquor cabinet once more…until I realized I’d already done that and there was no more alcohol left.
I reached and pulled my phone out as I headed barefoot toward the bathroom. It was late, really late. Dark outside. How long had I slept? I tried to blink away the sting in my eyes. Not long enough. That’s how long. But there was no rest for me, not anymore.
Crawl…
Killion’s snarl rose as I stepped close to Nick’s door, pushed the handle and shoved the door open. The bedroom was empty. I moved to T’s, finding the same. They were pissed at me, and doing who the fuck knows what.
I shook my head, hating how I shoved that desperation aside. I couldn’t care about them, not now. I had too many of my own demons to wrestle. But not battle, right? No, because to get her out, I needed to let my demons win.
I stepped into the bathroom, hit the light, and glanced down at my phone, finding six missed calls. Five of them were from Evans. But the sixth call was from a private number. I pressed the button to my voicemail and listened to Killion’s deep baritone. “There’s a private party over at Crestwood tonight. Your name and Evans’ are on the register. I expect to see a lot more of you tonight.”
Disgust moved through me. No doubt that’s what the five missed calls from Evans were about. I’d wanted in…so this was in. I lifted my gaze to the haunted eyes in the mirror. He wanted to see more of me. That only meant one thing…
He wanted to watch me fuck.
My balls clenched at the thought.
I didn’t care about an audience. But what I did care about was her.
Ryth.
There was no goddamn way I wanted to fuck anyone else.
Not now…not ever.
Only I wasn’t sure I had a choice. I pressed Evans’ number and listened to it ring, until it was answered with a moan. “C.” Evans sounded panicked. “What the fuck do we do now?”
