Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
HAYES
I wasn't the least bit surprised when I walked into my house and found Toby waiting for me in the living room. After the way we left things, I knew he would be back once he cooled off. "How long have you been sitting there?"
"Not long." Toby stared down at the bottle of whiskey in his hand. It was the wee hours of the morning. Not an unusual time for my best friend to be drinking. "I hung out at the bar until they kicked me out."
I didn't know what bar he was referring to considering there were several in the area he was banned from. I wasn't even sure how many he was still allowed in. Toby had a problem with regulating his emotions when alcohol was involved. The fact that he didn't sound hammered was a miracle.
"Are you crashing here for a while?"
Toby didn't have a permanent place of residence. He had a room here he used whenever he felt like it. Which was more often than not.
"Nah. I have a run with the club the next few days. I'm going to head over there in a bit. I just wanted to make sure we were straight before I left."
My best friend was part of a motorcycle club.
The run he referred to was probably something illegal.
My hopes that he would settle in with a decent club that ran charity runs was quickly dashed.
In typical Toby fashion, he hooked up with a bunch of bikers who thought they didn't have to follow the law. I would be a hypocrite for judging him.
We had an unspoken rule. I didn't ask him about club activities, and he didn't pry into my line of work when I went off in the middle of the night to clean up gruesome murder scenes. It worked for us.
"We're straight."
Toby glanced up at me. "I only get pissed because you're my friend, and I hate that you're still hung up on her."
I wanted to deny his claim. A decade was an awfully long time to allow my high school sweetheart to live rent-free in my head.
If I were a smarter man, I would've forgotten about her and moved on.
But there was this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I missed something major when it came to why Sloane abruptly left me.
I leaned my hip against the side of the recliner and crossed my arms over my chest. I wanted to buy myself some time before I responded. I wasn't exactly keen on a repeat performance of our last discussion.
"I know that, but until you've had that once-in-a-lifetime kind of love, you can't understand how I feel."
Toby blew out a breath and stood up. With a shake of his head, he mumbled, "Never gonna fucking listen."
I didn't bother to dignify that with a response. This was one of those agree-to-disagree moments.
We had been friends long enough that I knew how this would play out. Toby would leave for a few days, and by the time he came back, our discussion would be a thing of the past until something else happened that brought the problem to the forefront.
Those times were few and far between these days. I knew what to avoid so I didn't trigger a reaction in front of Toby. Now the moments I spent thinking about Sloane were done in private. Mostly when I was traveling for work. For the sake of my friendship, it was better that way.
I waited for the front door to slam shut before I locked up and headed to my room to catch some sleep.
The garage could run without me for a few hours.
I had an excellent manager who kept things going without me having to micromanage.
It wouldn't matter if I stopped in today at all but I knew after seeing Sloane, I would need the distraction work could provide.
I took another shower even though I grabbed one at the hangar before I got on the plane.
The extra one wasn't even necessary. While I worked I wore what was equivalent to a hazmat suit.
I was efficient. There was no trace of the victims on me or of me in the spaces I cleaned.
Yet I always took another one before I climbed into my bed.
A habit I picked up because of my youth.
Running water was scarce as a kid. My parents couldn't bother to pay the bill.
Luckily I had a gym teacher who didn't mind me using the one at the school.
It only did so much good though when I would put the same dirty clothes back on and don't even get me started on my bed as a kid.
Needless to say, cleanliness wasn't a top priority for my parents despite me trying.
Toby often joked that I was now a neat freak, and maybe it was the truth. It was also what made me so damn good at my job. I couldn't stand things being dirty.
By the time my head hit the pillow, I was exhausted.
I doubted I would get more than a few hours of sleep though.
I was lucky to get five solid hours a night before my brain decided to fuck with me.
If I were smart, I would seek out a therapist to sort out my shit, but that would mean telling a complete stranger about my fucked-up life.
I had no desire to do that, and honestly, I doubted they could help me.
A person needed to want help for it to work and I didn't.
I didn't want another person telling me to forget Sloane.
Just like every other night, she was my last thought before sleep claimed me. And she would be the first thing I thought about when I opened my eyes.
Only this time, when I woke up, things were much different.