Page 31 of The Fix

She rolls her eyes when I use the half-eaten hotdog to gesture around my mouth.

“Not even a little bit.”

I know I’ve had enough liquor to completely forget why we ended up outside to begin with, but I swear the woman shudders. Like the thought of another kiss somehow disgusts her.

Well then …

Challenge accepted.

“I’d rather freeze to death,” she mutters. “The only reason I’m out here now is because I’m starving and someone ate everything else in the fridge.”

I shrug and snicker, undenying of her accusations. “Pretty sure food is a staple for survival.”

“Lucky Charms and whiskey in your coffee is not survival.”

Holding up my arm, I squint at the half-eaten hotdog through one eye. “Guess you don’t count, either.” It goes down the hatch, colder than the first bite.

Anna shudders audibly, but manages to slap her dinner on a bun, then nibbles around so long I end up roasting and finishing another dog.

“Tastes horrible, doesn’t it?”

Grumbling, she tosses the remaining bits on the tray between us and sighs. “So bad.”

I chuckle. “I fuckin’ told you, Prune.”

Growling, she pushes to her feet, the blanket falling around her seat. “I’m going to bed.” She grabs the skewer and the tray and whisks them away to the kitchen.

I pretend not to watch her wash, rewash, and then replace each item in their designated space. She nods once she’s done, only disappearing down the hallway when she double checks them all again.

I wrap my fingers around the neck of the guitar I left on the couch. My fingertips ache, the smaller cords cutting into my already calloused skin, but I don’t let it stop me from playing.

The sound is not as rusty as it was in the hot tub, but I’m sure the water didn’t help the instrument much.

I tweak the tuning pegs, and that helps create a better melody, but it’s still not quite the tune I recall.

Growling, I scoot across the floor until my back hits the couch and the acoustic settles in my lap. I’m more engrossed in the flickering flames than the strings I play, but that doesn’t stop my mind from wandering. Dreaming. Wishing.

It’s almost as if I can hear the voices in my ears once the tune stops, my vision tunneling out so far that I don’t see anything past the burning embers.

Emotions I’ve done everything in my power to ignore claw their way up my drying throat and release a sound that’s on the verge of choked. The desperation burns behind my eyes until tears form, while anger and pain sear into my fingertips as they find the strings again. My skin splits, flaying open as I drag them across the cords, and yet I don’t stop.

Time stands still as I bleed over the frets with raw digits, and when the instrument gives up on me by popping a string, I pick the bottle.

I don’t stop until the bottom is dry and my vision is fuzzy and my head is swimming.

Then finally, it all goes black.

Chapter Sixteen

Anna

“What in the—” I exit my room the next morning, toeing my way down the clutter-filled hallway, with my palms slicking over.

What I’d expected to find this morning was a hungover but sleeping Toby passed out on the couch. Especially after hearing him play from my side of the door, so long that I fell asleep to the tune.

Instead … I’m met with complete and utter chaos as I enter the main portion of the house.

Dishes are discarded from their cabinets, silverware littering the counter, logs tossed across the floor. There’re ribbons of paper towels hanging from the open cabinets and cereal spilled all over the coffee table beside an over-turned chair.

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