Chapter 2 #2
“Kaden, you know you’re always welcome in my house. I just have to make sure you and Mila stay on opposite sides of it at all times,” he says, sarcastically, his lips curling into a grin.
I let out a snort, feeling surprisingly calm and happy for the first time in a long while. But that feeling is abruptly cut short by what Jason says next.
“While we’re on the topic of Mila, there’s something I need to tell you as well. I wasn’t sure when the right moment would be, especially with everything else you’re going through, but I’d rather you hear it from me than from anyone else.”
I frown, nerves prickling at the thought of what he’s about to say. “Okay,” I murmur.
He draws in a sharp breath and lets it out slowly through his nose. After a long, tense pause, he finally says the words I’ve been dreading to hear: “Skylar’s getting married in six months.”
I immediately go still, as if every muscle in my body has forgotten how to move. For a split second, I think I must have misheard him, but the sympathy in Jason’s eyes tells me I didn’t.
“Six months?” The words slip through my lips like a poisonous whisper, the sound leaving a bitter taste in my mouth, enough to feel the bile rise in my throat.
“I’m sorry to be the one to give you the news. I know you only just found out she got engaged. But I just wanted to give you a heads up.”
My chest tightens and my lungs burn as if the air itself has turned thick and acidic.
We’ve been divorced for only a few short months before Heath slipped an engagement ring on Skylar’s finger. And although we’ve been separated for a year and a half, the news of her engagement still hits me hard.
She’s moving on faster than I could ever have imagined, and I know I’ve lost the right to question it, or to feel this sad and hurt.
I’m the one who ruined everything after all.
But even so, it doesn’t lessen the sharp pain in my chest of knowing that the woman I’ve always loved and cared about is marrying someone else.
“Are you okay? Talk to me,” Jason urges, his brows drawing together with concern.
“Um… no, not really.” My shoulders sag, as if my body is collapsing under the weight of the news. Even as I try to hold a neutral expression, I know Jason can see the devastation in my eyes. He always seems to see through the cracks in my armour, no matter how hard I try to hide them.
Wanting to numb the pain, I push myself to my feet, eager to retreat to my room and lock myself away for the next twenty-four hours.
“I’m going to take a shower and then head to bed. I need to stop thinking for a while and just get a good night’s rest.”
Jason gives a small sympathetic nod. “I’m here if you need anything.”
I force a quick nod, thanking him for dinner and his support. Then I leave the room, realising I’ve just left him to clean up my mess after he cooked for us. But that’s the least of my problems. I’ve just learned my ex-wife is marrying someone else, and that calls for an emergency drink.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I rush into my room and lock the door behind me. I slide open the wardrobe door and dig through the top shelf beneath the piles of towels and bed sheets until I find exactly what I’m looking for.
I pull the unopened bottle of whisky from the shelf and saunter into the ensuite, setting it carefully on the vanity.
For a moment, I just stare at my reflection in the mirror, taking in the strain around my eyes, the clamminess of my skin, and my puffy cheeks.
Over the past few months, I can feel my once-sculpted muscles softening, a consequence of less time at the gym and more time spent drinking at home.
Anyone can see just how unhealthy I’ve become, how frail I look as if all my strength has been sucked right out of me.
I glance down at the bottle of whisky, my fingers curling tightly around the glass as I lift it towards me. My heart races, a familiar thrill of anticipation pulsing through me as I slowly twist the lid free.
The first sip, as the liquid coats my tongue, is always the sweetest, followed by a rush of warmth and relief as it slides down my throat. My mouth tingles with every swallow, and for a brief minute, I lose myself in the sensation.
I’m just about to take another sip when something on the edge of the vanity catches my eye: a bracelet—a friendship bracelet, the kind children make with lettered beads and some twine.
Jake had given it to me last week after he made it at school for Friendship Day, because, in his words, I was his ‘other best friend in the whole world.’
I remember how excited and proud he was as he tied it around my wrist. The memory alone makes my hand, still holding the bottle, slowly start to lower.
“You’ve got a little boy who looks up to you. Please don’t let him down. We’re all counting on you to stick around for a long time.”
Jason’s words from two weeks ago rush back, hitting me square in the chest and snapping me back to reality.
I glance back at my reflection, feeling utterly disgusted with myself for yet another lapse in control.
“What the fuck are you doing, you idiot?” I whisper angrily to myself, still gazing at my reflection. “Stop being so fucking weak and get your shit together. Enough is enough.”
Jason’s words keep replaying in my mind, driving the point home again and again. I’ve been Jake’s godfather from the moment he came into this world, a role entrusted to me by my best friend, who always believed I would be a good role model for his son.
And what have I done with it? I’ve taken it for granted, trampled over it, let him down more times than I can bear to admit.
I’ve been not just a shitty friend, but a shitty godfather too. I would never want Jake to follow my example, and I’ve already failed him in every way that counts. The memories crash into me, drowning me in a tide of emotions too raw to name.
It’s that final thought that compels me to lift the bottle and slowly tip it over the sink. The deep amber liquid spills instantly, cascading into the drain like a poisonous stream. I watch as the bottle empties drop by drop, until the last trace splashes against the ceramic.
When there’s nothing left and both the bottle and my mind feel significantly lighter, I toss it straight into the rubbish bin, never to be touched again.
As I begin to undress, ready to wash the remnants of alcohol and the day from my skin, I make a silent vow, that from this moment on, I will fight every single day to become the person Jason and Jake deserve. A man they can truly rely on. A man capable of change and growth.
And, if hope allows, to one day be worthy of happiness again.