Page 111 of A Sky Full Of Stars

“Kryptonite” by Three Doors Down is blaring when the music comes on, and I rush to turn it down.

“This one could be ours too,” Thomas says, confusing me even more, until he fills me in. “You’re my Kryptonite. You’re the only one that could bring me to my knees.”

Though a giddy feeling settles in my stomach, I try not to read too much into it, knowing he won’t remember it tomorrow. When he sings, actually getting the words right for once, I smile, squeezing his leg. “You’re all about the songs tonight.”

“I told you; I like music. And for some reason, I’ve always associated songs with you. It’s mostly songs about the sky though.”

It’s an odd confession, but I kind of like it. I’m about to ask him which songs specifically, when he says, “Oh, and I’m staying at the Ball House,” immediately silencing my thoughts.

I wait a few seconds, expecting him to laugh and tell me he’s joking, but when I turn to look his way, his eyes are closed and he has a peaceful expression in place as his breathing deepens.

Okay. Ball House it is.God, I hope this isn't as bad as I imagine it will be.

Ipull up at the curb out front and leave the truck running before glancing over to Thomas passed out next to me.

I want to believe he can handle the drinking, that it’s not a problem, but this is beyond social, and if I’m being honest with myself, I’m terrified for him. Terrified for what this path will do to his health, to his dreams. I know it’s the offseason, but he said he had a good chat with Summer. They’re reconnecting and yet…he still drank himself into oblivion.

I reach over to shake him, but he looks so serene, I consider putting the car in park to let him sleep it off until morning. But if I do that, I’m making a decision about Thomas’s life that I have no right to make. I can’t leave him alone, and if Luke notices me here, God knows what he’ll do. Or how he’ll react. If we’re going to face that, we have to face it together. When we’re both of sound mind.

I could go somewhere else, but he needs proper sleep and so do I. I have to work again tomorrow, and I can’t miss my shift after bailing tonight.

Decision made, I jog around to the passenger side and assess my options before trying to wake Thomas. But when he doesn’t stir, I realize I’m in trouble.

I can’t do this alone.Who was I kidding?

My eyes flash to the Ball House, and I know what I have to do. I just have to pray I’m making the right call.

Nate answers on the third ring, his voice groggy from sleep. “Hello.” He clears his throat. “Lainey?”

“Hi, Nate. I’m so sorry to call you.”Please be here. Please be here.“I didn’t know who else to call.”

“No sweat. I just…didn’t know I had your number in my contacts.”

Ugh, this is bad.I laugh awkwardly. “I know. I’m sorry.” I cringe. “That was Luke. He borrowed your phone to call me one day, and he always saves important numbers. It’s a habit. He must have done it without thinking.” It’s the same reason I have Nate’s number.

“Sounds like Luke. Is everything okay?”

“Not exactly. I’m out in front of the Ball House, and I could use your help if you’re here. I’ve got Thomas with me and he’s…ah…”

Nate sighs, and I have this feeling he knows without me telling him. “I’ll be right down.”

Hanging up, I plant my ass on the curb beside Thomas’s open door and wait, my arms folded over my knees. This is not how I pictured my night going, or any night spent with Thomas, but at least I could be there for him.

Nate’s downstairs faster than I expected, and when I turn to face the judgment in his eyes, I don’t find any. He smiles, and the warmth of it fills my heart as I stand, grateful to see him.

“I’m sorry again, but God, I’m happy you’re home.”

“Please don’t apologize. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to help. I’m not sure I can lift him.” Nate smiles again and I want to laugh, but nothing about this situation seems funny.

“You knew what I was going to say, didn’t you?” I ask, bringing the conversation back to his drinking.

“I did.”

“Have you ever spoken to him about it?”

“I have.” He answers with no emotion as though he’s stating the facts, and something about that response makes me more comfortable. He’s not judging Thomas. At all. At least, I don’t think so. “He doesn’t think he has a problem,” Nate adds, still without expression.

“But you do?” I ask, even though deep down I know the answer and I should have questioned him sooner.

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