Page 62 of F*ck You

No, it wasn’t that I didn’t care enough, because I sure as fucking hell did. I cared way more than I ever should have. Only, I didn’t want to force it out before he was comfortable talking about it.

Like Larsen once said, it was his story to tell. And now here I was, terrified about what I was about to hear, for his truth he was about to rip open so I could see his rawest wound. This wasn’t how I wanted to find out.

Now I was going to get the story that made him who he was today, and for some reason I was scared.

I was scared that I had done something not only to open the cuts on his heart again, but something that I might possibly not even be able to come back from. The look that was directed at me was one filled with raw emotion he seemed to be struggling to express.

Even though with each beat of my heart, each gulp of the sweet rum that trickled down my throat, every bit of warning that pounded against my skull, I couldn’t seem to stop myself. The only thing that was getting through to me right now was the look in his eyes that struck a note of insecurity in my heart. I flinched when his mouth opened and his voice filled the silence around us, his words filled with hurt.

“She began drinking. It started innocently at first, probably like yours did. A relaxing margarita on the beach, the occasional glass of wine with friends, beer to get through extended family functions. It slowly progressed over time to the point where she began pouring whiskey into her morning coffee, which I only found out when I grabbed the wrong mug one time. She could no longer make it to lunch without at least a shot or two on the side of her full bottle, and then when she started drinking and driving…well…the last time she got behind the wheel with a bottle, she came home in a body bag.”

I swallowed around a lump in my throat, unable to find a response. If there was anything that could sober me up right now, it was this. I was super fucking uncomfortable, which was probably his intention. This was most likely the only way to get through to me, and the fight drained from my body with each word he spoke.

“She was smart. Top of her class. She would have had a bright future ahead of her if she would’ve been able to graduate. There was no real reason we could find, she basically enjoyed the buzz so much that she was on a constant chase for it.”

The story wasn’t coming out in a series of carefully crafted words. Rather, it was being forced out despite everything within him that kept those memories buried deep inside. This wasn’t easy for me, but it was even harder for him. I didn’t move a muscle as he spoke, keeping my unblinking eyes on his as he pushed out each word and showed me the scars on his soul.

I vaguely knew Larsen was nearby, but right now my tunnel vision was on Chase and the ghosts of his past.

“We knew she had a problem, my dad and me. We tried to get her to stop and go to rehab, but every mention of it only angered her and she would drink more just to spite us. She hated being told what to do, even if it would save her life, which is why I’ve held back saying anything to you, believing that despite everything, you would be different—until now when you tried to follow directly in her footsteps by getting behind the wheel with a bottle in your hand and alcohol in your system.

“There was one fatality that night. Luckily no one else died.” His voice was thick, and he swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “She veered off the road and hit a tree. It could’ve been so much worse, though, if she would have hit someone else. Her death was tragic, and it was lonely. Even though she grew up in that condo with me, she still lived alone in her own little world where liquor flowed through her veins and a constant party raged in her head. Then she died alone in her car smashed up against the tree we used to drive by every time we went out for family getaways.”

His eyes flickered as he took a steadying breath, and I only then noticed how one of his hands was fisted at his side while the other clenched the top of the truck door so hard, his white knuckles were practically glowing in the afternoon sun.

Everything made so much sense now. How he always seemed to be on edge every time he saw me grab a drink but didn’t say anything, and it definitely explained why I never saw him even take a single sip. I’d never questioned it, but now I wished I had, because then I wouldn’t be sitting here in my beaten down truck having narrowly avoided making a drastic mistake, but I still felt as though I was losing a huge part of me. It wasn’t until this exact moment that I realized how finely ingrained these two were to my whole being. Sweat slid down my neck as worry over possibly losing them overtook my mind.

“I’m so sorry,” I croaked out, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. “I had no idea.”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you already knew before now. This decision you just tried to make is the worst one of all, and frankly—” His broke, and he coughed off to the side before getting his bearings again and looking back at me with glistening eyes. “I don’t know if it’s something I can look past. The memories… the possibilities. It’s too much right now. I already relive the past every day, and some days are better than others. But honestly, this part right here is too much, and I need some time. I-I need to go.”

His voice cracked at the end, and his hand was still clenched around air when he dropped it from the door. Exhaustion filled his gaze, and he looked at me with the utmost pity.

“I know why you did this. I get it, Giana likes to cause problems. It’s what she does, and always has been. But this isn’t the way.”

With one last look at me, he turned around and walked back to the beach. He passed the party and his condo and kept going.

I didn’t know where he was heading to, or if he even had a destination in mind, but he didn’t look back at all. I kept my eyes locked on the back of his retreating form until he completely disappeared from sight, leaving me more broken than I realized was possible.

Only then did I finally break down. When Larsen stepped forward to put his arms around me, I fell into his embrace and let the tears fall. I poured out all my regrets, worries, and frustrations into his chest, soaking his cotton shirt with the tears of a broken heart.

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