Chapter 58
Fifty-Eight
ANDREA
This is your punishment. It’s your fault. This is what you get for being such a sinful slut. You were warned, but you fell for temptation anyway, and now look, you’re drinking away the pain again.
Intrusive thoughts are the only things capable of breaking through the blaring sirens of pain. Tight clothes make it worse. Drinking makes it worse. Sitting makes it worse. Standing makes it worse.
I’m cursed.
Maybe if you repent—
I knock back another shot. I really shouldn’t be getting sloshed in front of Win.
Then again, the maniac willingly walked into a club of vices while in recovery because he can’t stand to let Remy out of his sight.
My best friend might be furious with the guy, but I can’t lie, his dedication is impressive. Reckless. But impressive.
“That bad tonight?”
I signal the bartender for another round of shots before twisting to face my old roommate. More like ex-situationship.
At a point in time, I was convinced I could date Melody— we meshed on so many things.
Or so I thought. I’ve come to the conclusion that I was drawn to the way she moved through the world so freely.
So confidently. She inspired me and introduced me to a different kind of spirituality— crystals, manifestation, occasional voodoo.
And while I tried to emulate her, I could never fully buy into it.
I’m too jaded.
Too skeptical.
Too angry.
The bartender slides another drink and two more shots to me. Wordlessly, I pass one to Melody, clink the glass to hers, then down mine.
Nodding to herself, “O-kay. That bad. Got it.”
“I looked at the lab results.”
She doesn’t need an explanation for my shitty mood or binge drinking. Shit, I don’t even want to talk about this right now, but here I am, doing exactly that.
“And?”
Leaning on the bar, I sip my new cocktail. Nothing douses the flames consuming me from the inside.
“There was nothing wrong.”
It makes no sense. None at all. It can’t be in my head. I’m not imagining it. But according to those results… I am.
Pity wells in her eyes. “Drea…”
“I need to numb this shit so I can referee.”
Melody squeezes next to me, facing the opposite direction, our arms pressed together. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”
Them being Remy and Win. I glance over my shoulder into the crowd, barely making out Remy’s golden brown waves in a sea of dancing drunks. Off to the side, Win glares, tattooed arms crossed over his chest.
“Hitting on him was sort of working,” Melody muses.
I snort. “If by working, you mean Rem plotting your murder, then yeah, totally.”
She snickers. “He’s lucky I don’t fuck with people’s exes.”
“Mel, you’re lesbian.”
A shrug. “I’d brave dick for a face that pretty.”
My brow arches. “You wouldn’t know what to do with a dick.”
She throws her head back with a laugh. Even as I laugh with her, a pit in my stomach forms. Because I want to be that carefree. That relaxed.
Sighing, her hand finds the small of my back. “You should head home. Take a bath. Try those edibles I gave you.”
“I’ll live.”
Her hand falls away. She’s learned not to push me to take care of myself— it’s a lost cause.
“Fine. So do I finally get to meet Cade, then?”
I swirl the ice cubes in my drink around with the tiny black straw.
Drunk Andrea cried to her about Cade and Seba more times than I’d like to admit.
But having Cade meet Melody— the girl I hooked up with while he was off getting treatment— makes the alcohol I’ve been chugging all evening rise back up my esophagus.
“I think so.”
He hasn’t responded to my text. Maybe something came up at home. The pile of worries grows by the minute. (It’s more of a mountain at this point.) Did he get triggered? Did he have an episode? Is he hearing his mom’s voice again?
My phone buzzes.
Speak of the devil.
Cade:
Be there soon. Sorry in advance. It was the only way.
“What’s that face for?” Melody asks cautiously.
I’m still scrutinizing the whack-ass message when another comes in.
Cade:
Promise not to break up with me.
Now I’m panicking. I pocket my phone and glance at the entrance.
Then do a double-take.
“Oh fucking fuck me,” I groan, signaling the bartender for two more shots.
I’m gonna need them. Because escorting my boyfriend into the club is none other than Sebastian Holt in a backwards hat, casual button down shirt, jeans and boots, looking good enough to eat and drawing the hungry eyes of everyone in this damn building.
I hate him so fucking much.
“Mel?”
“Yeah?”
“I need your help.”
“Okay…”
“Distract Pooh Bear from doing something stupid, like breaking his sobriety and for the love of the God I don’t believe in, make sure Remy doesn’t go home with that guy grinding on him.”
Her brows pinch. “Where are you going?”
I glare directly at the ruggedly handsome bane of my existence, holding motherfucking hands with my beautiful nightmare.
Melody follows my gaze. “Ohhh shit.”
“Yep.”
“I get it now.”
“Yep.”
She grimaces. “No doubt about it. He’s up in his guts.”
I groan. “Stop. I’m trying not to remember how good they look together naked.”
“Oh, Drea, you’re so screwed,” she sighs, patting my shoulder. “The one in the hat could impregnate a man post vasectomy.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?” I mutter, squeezing past her. Her laugh rings out over the music at my back as I down more liquid courage and brave the crowd.