Page 83 of Bad & Bossy

The burn returned at the base of my throat. Ever since I’d quelled it after months of sobriety, it seemed to come back with a vengeance. It wanted more. It wanted it often. Every little aggravation made it spike.

“Just say it,” Gray said, his voice dropping as he glanced toward the other side of the bed. Fuck, did I remember to clean it up? Yes. I did.

“I’m not drinking,” I barked. “In fact, I’m trying not to?—”

“Cole. Please. I really don’t want to play the game you made me play nine months ago.”

“I’m not drinking,” I said again, each word slower and full of bullshit.

“Cole.”

“I’m not. I’m, I’m not.” Fuck. The words were already failing. I hadn’t had that much earlier, had I? A few glasses at most. But I was a goddamn lightweight now, and he was coming closer, the drawer was opening, the empty bottles clanging inside.

“You’re not, huh?” Gray said, looking from me to the drawer filled with three glass bottles.

“I’m not,” I rasped, but the words broke.

“You are.”

I’m not. They’re not mine. They were here when I checked in. They belong to a friend. They aren’t mine, they aren’t, they aren’t.

“Cole,” Gray sighed, shoving the drawer closed before sinking onto the foot of the bed. “How long?”

“I’m not,” I said again, but the words were barely a whisper. You’ve thrown it all away. Nine months of sobriety, your fancy new chip, all gone for nothing. It burned. “Fuck.”

“How long, man?”

I tasted the tear on my lip before I even noticed my eyes were leaking. “Two weeks.”

“Why didn’t you call?” Gray asked, his brown eyes boring a hole in me that only made me feel smaller. “I would have done whatever I could?—”

“You had Penny that night.” I leaned against the door of my too-small room, feeling like a spotlight was being shined directly at me, like I was airing my failures to the world. “Please, don’t tell Dana. I’ll stop. I did it before, I can do it again. Just don’t tell her.”

His lips pursed together as his head tilted, a look of stubborn disappointment painting his face. “You have to tell her.”

“I will, I promise. I just need to get a handle on myself before I see her. I can’t fuck up again with her. I was too rough with her at the launch, too angry, too needy. I don’t want to do that to her ever again.” Words just kept falling from my mouth, whether they made sense or repeated themselves or not. All I could think about was her, and the look of dismay she’d no doubt give me the moment she knew.

“If you’re going to go through this again, you need to be open with the people that care about you,” Gray said, a hint of despondency in his voice. “You can’t shut everyone out and disappear for six months again. You need all the support you can get.”

“I know.”

“You’ve got to do it right this time.”

“I know.”

“So you have to tell her.”

“She’ll hate me,” I said, my voice cracking.

“She has enough going on right now that I don’t think she’ll cast you out for it,” he scoffed, and as if a fucking dime had dropped, I snapped into action.

“What do you mean?”

“She didn’t call you?”

“I haven’t been answering, obviously,” I hissed. “What’s happening?”

“Her kid’s in the hospital,” he said, his brows knitting together as I pushed myself from the door.

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