Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 129354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Either way, I’m more than a little relieved when we arrive at his house. “Let me talk to his mom before we take him in,” Brenna says. “I need to warn Louisa.”
She hops out and hurries toward the two-story home. It has a white wraparound porch, big bay windows, and a welcoming red door. It’s hard to picture a meth addict living there.
I wait for Brenna to reach the porch, then twist around in my seat to address Eric. “Listen, I don’t know what your history with Brenna is,” I say in a low voice. “But this is the last time you’re going to be calling her.”
Confusion fills his eyes. “But I have to call her. She’s my friend and—”
“She’s not your friend, pal.” My jaw goes so tight I can barely get a word out. “You just risked her life, made her drive in a storm to rescue you from some bender, and then thanked her by asking for drug money. You are not her friend.”
I think a sliver of guilt manages to penetrate the high, because his lips start trembling. “She’s my friend,” he says again, but it doesn’t hold as much conviction as before.
Brenna returns to the car, accompanied by a dark-haired woman in a flannel robe and rain boots. She looks like she was dragged out of bed.
The woman throws open the back door. “Eric, honey, come here. Get in the house.”
He manages to slide out of the backseat on his own. Once he staggers to his feet, his mother latches on to his arm. “Come on, honey, let’s go inside.” She glances toward the driver’s seat. “Thank you so much for bringing him home.”
As she guides him away, a dismayed Brenna peers at Brooks’s open window. “Your coat,” she reminds him.
“Let him keep it. I’ll buy another.” A response that reveals just how badly he wants to disentangle himself from this entire situation.
I don’t blame him.
When Brenna is buckled up in the backseat, I twist around and prompt, “Hastings?”
She slowly shakes her head, and I’m startled when I glimpse unshed tears clinging to her long eyelashes. “Can I spend the night at your place?”
27
Brenna
“I’m so embarrassed.” I flop down in the center of Jake’s bed, wearing one of his T-shirts, a pair of his thick socks, and nothing else. My cheeks are still burning from the humiliation of scouring the streets of New Hampshire for my druggie ex-boyfriend—and dragging two other people along for the ride.
Jake closes the door. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. We all have our shit.”
“Really? So you have a meth-addicted ex-girlfriend lurking in the shadows who might require rescuing at any moment? Sweet! We have so much in common!”
His lips quirk up. “Fine. Maybe my shit isn’t quite as exciting as yours.” He runs a hand through his hair, which is still damp from the shower.
We both showered—separately—the second we got back to Jake’s apartment. After being out in the cold April rain with Eric and then driving home in wet clothes, we desperately needed warming up. A part of me is still floored that Jake and Brooks did this for me tonight. It’s definitely going above and beyond.
I can’t get Eric’s face out of my mind. His enlarged pupils, the rapid-fire jabbering. It’s horrifying to know that he smoked meth for three days straight, got lost in a quiet residential neighborhood, and passed out in the bushes. Afraid. Alone. Thank God his mother continues to pay for his cell phone so that he has the means to communicate and call for help.
I just wish he hadn’t called me.
“I can’t believe that’s the same Eric Royce who almost played for Chicago,” Jake says, and there’s a flash of pity in his eyes.
“I know.”
He joins me on the bed. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with him.” I have to amend that. “Not to this extent, though. Usually he wants money. Last year I made the mistake of giving him some, so now he thinks it’s okay to keep asking.”
“You dated for how long?”
“About a year and a half.”
“And you broke up with him.”
I nod.
“Why?”
“Because it was too much.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “It got too intense, and we weren’t good for each other anymore. Plus, my dad hated him by that point.”
“Doesn’t your dad hate everyone?”
“Pretty much.” I smile faintly. “But he especially hates Eric.”
“I’m not sure I fault him for that.”
“Me neither, but you weren’t there. We went through some stuff and it hit Eric hard. He was immature and didn’t know how to properly deal with his emotions. He made a lot of mistakes.” I shrug. “Dad doesn’t allow for mistakes.”
My voice cracks and I hope Jake doesn’t notice. Because that’s the problem—there’s no such thing as forgiveness with my father. He hasn’t forgiven me for my relationship with Eric and all the trouble it caused. I don’t think he ever will.