Chapter 34 Thorne
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
THORNE
Running my hands under the faucet, my hips greeted the countertop, another grounding cord to the high I was still riding. Water pooled in my palms, and I bent forward, splashing it over my heated face.
God, Oren really had destroyed me.
“Fucking hell.” My groan came muffled as I breathed against my own skin, taking my time to massage my eyes. “And we have a fucking party. A party after that shit?”
I was losing my mind. I had to be.
“Talking to yourself in the bathroom is a new low, Thorne, even for you,” I mumbled to myself, ripping the hand towel from the holder on the wall.
Drying my face with it, I tossed it haphazardly on the counter, something I knew Oren would undoubtedly scold me for later.
Especially considering it wasn’t our bathroom I’d slipped into, but the guest one positioned just off the hall upstairs.
Dropping the heel of my palm, I shut off the water.
With a deep inhale, I flattened my palms against the granite, leveling my gaze on my reflection.
My honeyed eyes greeted me, but a profound exhaustion clung to my gaze.
It was the sleepless nights catching up to me, the nightmares becoming nearly too much for me to handle, and the continued ‘what-ifs’ of my flawed and failed friendship.
Part of me couldn’t help but wonder where I’d gone wrong, what I’d done to urge Matt to turn his back on me so willingly.
And the other part of me? It struggled to accept that I’d never find out.
“God, why do you even care?” Running my fingers through my grown hair, I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. You’ve moved on, and so has he. Let it go.”
I really had lost it, hadn’t I?
Shoving myself away from the kitchen sink, I pivoted on my heel. Frigid steel welcomed me, my fingers curling around the doorknob. Tugging the bathroom door open, the voices of those who Oren had invited over immediately enveloped my senses—Simon and Liam.
“Shit, Oren, no wonder we haven’t seen you in forever. You’ve got plenty of space, two dogs, and a fucking backyard perfect for hosting.”
“And we haven’t seen both of you in forever, either. Last I heard, you were too busy moping before confessing your—”
Simon scoffed, cutting him off. “We don’t need to dwell on the past.”
“I think it’s perfectly fine to dwell on the past,” Liam added. “Seeing as you were the one to state your feelings first.”
“Well, you liked me first,” Simon corrected. “I was merely making sure it was reciprocated in a timely manner.”
Oren’s laughter rang down the hallway. “At least you finally confessed. We all knew you liked Liam, Simon.”
Trotting down the stairs, I prayed the railing would serve as enough of a distraction from my thoughts. “I love that the two of you are arguing about the schematics of your relationship.”
“Thorne!” Simon grinned, giving me a thumbs-up. Despite the injury I’d caused, he was as lively as ever, never a dull moment dampening his smile. “Arguing is the basis of a relationship.”
“Playful arguing,” Liam corrected with the shake of his head, his dirty-blonde locks tumbling forward.
He’d grown out his hair, adding to the casual attire he wore—a simple blue button-down shirt and jeans. It was the perfect contrast to Simon’s lavish attire; it looked like he’d stolen his entire outfit from Oren’s closet.
“The base of a relationship?” I asked, stopping to lean against the post at the bottom of the stairs. “Last I checked, the foundation of any relationship should be based on a concept called communication. Though we all know how good you are at that.”
He laughed, the sound flooding through the house. “You’re right. Communication might not be my best strength, but the sex—”
Liam cleared his throat. “Food. Where… Where is the food?”
Oren jerked his thumb into the kitchen, biting his lip to keep from smiling. “It’s on the counter in the kitchen. Stuffed mushrooms, jalapeno poppers, sliders, and a bunch of sides. I was also going to make a cake, but I, uh, ran out of time.”
Running my tongue over my teeth, I reached over, pinching Oren’s side. “Yeah, he got a little distracted.”
His gaze snapped to mine, and if not for company, he would’ve laid into me with the thoughts he kept hidden. “Right, distracted.”
My lips curled into a smirk as I raised a challenging brow in his direction before turning on my heel to follow our guests. “Can I get either of you a beer?”
“Sure,” Simon said as he headed into the kitchen.
Liam was already there, piling a plate with food. “No beer for me. Quit drinking once I started dating him because someone has to watch him.”
“Oh, I’m not that bad. I just have a low tolerance.”
“Right,” Oren said. “I strictly remember a party you attended on campus where you shed—”
“Past. In. The. Past.”
With a half-eaten slider in his mouth, Liam chuckled. “Mhm, the party you left early to come find me.”
“Okay, before you two delve too far into fucking one another with your words. Simon.” Tugging the garage door open, I glanced over my shoulder. “Modelo? Bud Light? Corona? What do you want?”
“Corona.”
“I knew I liked you,” I stated playfully with a wink, slipping from sight but keeping the door cracked with my foot to eavesdrop on the continued conversation.
“Wait, that’s why you left early, Simon? You went to find Liam?”
Simon groaned. “It was a moment of despair for me.”
Rolling my eyes, I tugged the refrigerator open, coiling my fingers around two bottles. With a subtle shift, I closed it with my hip, nudging my way back into the kitchen.
My gaze met Simon, and I tossed him the beer, a chuckle leaving me. “Seems you may need this.”
“Seems you might be right.” He grimaced beneath Oren’s probing stare, one I knew far too well. The fucker didn’t stand a chance next to that man.
“To be exact,” Liam cut in, “it was a moment of utter devotion to me. He showed up at my door sobbing, explaining how he’d always loved me, wanted me to hold him and never let him go, and that he’d always—”
“They get the picture,” he muttered, the undeniable pink hue to his cheeks spreading. “It was—”
A knock sounded at the door, my attention snapping to Oren. “Who else did you invite?” I asked, my grip tightening around the bottle in my hand.
There was no way.
There was no way.
Oren’s gaze softened. “I… I’ll let him do the talking,” he said before shuffling to the door, his shoulders hunched over.
Releasing a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, the glass shattered in my hand, beer spilling across my skin to mix with the fresh cut on my palm. “Shit—fuck.”
I turned to the kitchen sink, dropping the shattered remnants of the bottle inside it. Continuing to curse under my breath, I quickly flipped the faucet on, running my hand beneath the steady stream to clean the stickiness that coated my skin.
As I worked to cleanse myself, my eyes locked on the steady trickle of scarlet flowing between my fingers. And with one inhale, I was back in the hospital room, on my knees in front of Oren, begging anyone to see me, to hold me, to fucking listen.
“Hey, thanks for coming.” Oren’s voice floated between my mangled thoughts before his timbre cut through like sharp steel.
“I brought a pack of Corona and some brownies. I’m not sure if that’s—”
“It’s plenty, Matt. Come on in.”
He cleared his throat. “I won’t stay long. I don’t… don’t want to intrude.”
Of course, he wouldn’t stay long. He never stayed. He never fucking fought for me. He never…
Hissing between clenched teeth, I kicked the cabinet, the thud of the collision reverberating through the tension.
With one glance down, my curled fingers greeted me, carving into the fresh wound in my palm.
Part of me never realized that I’d started digging with every intention of hurting myself; the onslaught of my memories nearly numbed my essence to completion.
Footsteps echoed, barely audible above the screams inside my head. Screams I’d released that day in the hospital for someone… for him to help me through it, but he’d let me go. Discarded me as quickly as he’d entered my life.
“Baby, Matt… Oh my God, are you okay?” Oren’s panic rose at the sight of crimson staining my hand and counter.
“Thorne?” Matthew paused at the entrance to the kitchen, his eyebrows furrowing as if he cared.
Instinctively, my body flinched as he said my name, the single syllable rolling from his tongue like a lashing from a whip. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine! Let me go find the first-aid kit.” At the sound of his hurried steps leaving, I spiraled further. The one person I needed had left, leaving me alone with someone who would only cause those thoughts to darken further.
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” Matthew bit his lip, his gaze flicking to the ground.
“I said I’m fine, Matthew,” I practically snarled. Driving my thumb into the wound, out of desperation to keep myself grounded, a hissed whimper escaped me. “Not like you ever bothered to check up on me, even when you knew I wasn’t.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” The crack in his tone as he said those words lingered, but the pain, the abandonment, the hurt? It remained.
“I don’t need your apologies. You made your decision that day when you turned your back on me and never bothered glancing over your shoulder.
” Nearing the inability to breathe, I stepped away from the sink, attempting to stifle the blood flow with my other hand.
My booted footsteps roared through the space, my shoulder colliding with his as I rushed for the back door. “Let Oren know I’m outside.”
But it wasn’t Oren who followed.
“I wanted to apologize. For… For that day in the hospital. I froze, because I’d fucking screwed up. I hurt you, and I was scared to confront you. I… I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but—”