46. Theo Fairview
Iwoke up in the guest room.
Why was I–oh... Fuck.
Memories from the night before came rushing back, and I curled into myself against the almost painful feelings of shame.
The shame and the guilt hurt almost more than the hangover, which was saying something.
I remembered taking the Uber to the liquor store… I remembered downing most of the vodka on the walk to the cemetery… I didn’t remember coming back here.
Why the fuck would drunk Theo come back here!?
I was in the guest room, though… Maybe drunk Theo managed to get back in without Cass knowing?
She’d probably be confused and ask why I came home so late, and I could just explain I’d slept in the guest room so I wouldn’t wake her up.
Biting back a groan, I forced myself to sit up.
I didn’t even know what time it was…
My stomach rolled, and my head spun as I pushed myself to my feet.
I was completely naked, which was concerning, as a quick scan of the room told me I hadn’t taken my clothes off in here.
Fuck.
Slowly and clumsily, I diligently forced myself to go on the most depressing scavenger hunt in the world.
“Cass?” I croaked, but I was met with silence.
She must already be at work. Thank fuck.
Anxiety swirled in my gut at the fact that if Cass was at work, there was a possibility she was sitting in the same room as the man who had repeatedly molested me as a child.
Bile flooded my mouth, and I almost threw up.
I needed more vodka.
My brain literally couldn’t handle the thought of that.
That itchy, buzzing feeling was building in my head again, and I crushed my eyes shut against the agonizing pressure.
Make it stop.
Make it stop.
Please, for the love of fuck, make it stop…
Trembling helplessly through wave after wave of trauma, I wandered through the empty condo until I found the clothes I was wearing the night before in the hamper in Cass’s room.
That couldn’t be good.
Pulling out clean clothes from the drawers she’d let me use, I got dressed as quickly as I could before making my way into the kitchen.
The clock over the stove said 9:45 am, which meant Cass had been at work for hours already.
Happily, I wasn’t late for any sort of meeting with Jerry, as it was fight day, so we wouldn’t be training today. I was supposed to be resting until later.
Running a hand down my face, I took a deep breath, trying to get my bearings, when I noticed a bright pink Post-it note on the counter.
‘We need to talk.’
Any hopes I had that I’d made it back without getting caught were immediately dashed, and the blood drained from my face.
It was over.
If she saw me like that… it was fucking over for sure.
The explosion of anxiety, guilt, and pent-up trauma that wracked through my body was catastrophic.
I didn’t make the conscious decision to cross the room and open Cass’s wine fridge. It just happened.
It almost felt like I was having an out-of-body experience as I watched my hands pour an entire bottle of pinot grigio into my hydro flask. The cold, bright liquid splashed into the water bottle, and I stared at it in a sort of detached, dissociative state.
The first few gulps made my headache go away.
The next few made the shaking stop.
Instead of feeling drunk, it just made me feel more level.
It was like someone turned down the volume on my emotions.
The insanely powerful feelings of hurt, shame, and fear dulled down to a delicate sort of apathy, and I suddenly felt like I could handle being alive again.
Good. This was good.
All I had to do was maintain this level of buzz, and I could make it through the fight.
Then if Cass asked me to move out tomorrow, I could handle it.
At least she was giving me time to mentally prepare.
I took another massive gulp of wine.
Go slow.
You can’t get blackout.
Filling another flask up with water, I took a few gulps of that too, hoping it would help even me out before I went back to the bedroom to see if I could find my gym bag.
It wasn’t there…
It wasn’t in the condo at all. Neither was my phone.
Fuck.
I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration, hoping I hadn’t left my shit at my dad’s grave, but knowing I probably had, I resolved to set out on my second depressing scavenger hunt of the day.
Well, guess I was heading out earlier than planned.
Borrowing one of Cass’s yoga bags, I shoved in my hydro flask full of wine along with my water bottle. I also added a pair of shorts and a sports bra for the fight later, in case my gym bag wasn’t at the cemetery.
As I kicked on my shoes to wait for the elevator, I looked back at the bright, gorgeous condo I’d had the brief pleasure of living in with the woman of my fucking dreams.
This was probably one of the last times I would ever be here.
No one would want me to stay after dealing one of my crash outs. Especially not someone as put together as Cassandra.
I cringed as my imagination tormented me with ideas of what she’d probably dealt with when I walked into her house in the middle of the night, completely blackout.
She was probably so embarrassed with herself for even thinking of getting involved with someone like me.
A strange, but sad sense of relief welled through me as I adjusted to the fact that Cass was almost definitely going to just cut her losses and get rid of me as soon as she had the chance.
If she asked me to leave, I wouldn’t need to bother telling her that her client had molested me.
The thought of ever having to tell her the truth had me taking another few large, desperate gulps of wine.
The only reason she was even with me in the first place was so she could make partner… I assumed Samwell was the client who had refused to work with an unmarried woman.
Cass had been desperate enough to get this guy on retainer that she had organized a whole staged marriage… There was no way she would jeopardize her career over some shit that happened to her fake wife nearly twenty years ago.
If she kicked me out because she didn’t want to live with a walking disaster with alcoholic tendencies, it would somehow hurt less than knowing she would pick my rapist over me.
Really, it would just be easier if she kicked me out.
Less messy.
Taking another gulp of wine, I stepped into the elevator, thinking about how much easier it would be to just fade away once I was back living alone in my guesthouse.
At least when I fell apart alone, I didn’t have to worry about waking up to eviction notices disguised as Post-it notes.
It was just me and my demons, and maybe that was just the way it was always meant to be.