Page 42 of Forgiving Fate

Tears fill my eyes and my phone drops to the ground.

I bury my face in the couch and beg for the tears to go away.

Maybe Landon was right. I do need him. I just don’t think he expected a phone full of memories would make me unable to ask for the one thing I don’t want to admit I need.

Chapter Sixteen

Landon

The sun shines throughthe trees, blanketing the dark living room in a yellow glow.

This should be my sign that I need to go to sleep, but I know it will be pointless to try. I’ve been up for hours pacing back and forth with a bottle of whiskey in my hand, but my eyes never leave my phone sitting on the counter.

It’s been over twenty-fours hours since I last heard from Allie. I’ve texted her twice, and she hasn’t even looked at the texts. I feel like a damn stalker, but this isn’t normal. For the past few weeks, it has been days of checking in or her texting me saying she needs someone to sit with her.

We sit and sometimes say nothing at all for hours. One would think that the silence would just welcome all the demons to come out to play, but when we are in the same room, the voices quiet to a low whisper.

Taking a swig of whiskey, I contemplate what to do. Do I go over there and check in?

She’s probably sleeping, asshole. You will scare the shit out of her. Don’t be stupid.

“I know,” I say out loud to the voices in my head.

Fuck. I’ve really gone insane.

Since I’ve been back in town, it’s been a series of one fuck up after another. We have had three missions, and they were all shit shows.

The first one we got there too late and had to break the news to the family that their son wasn’t coming home. The next, the guy somehow got tipped off that we were coming and was seconds from running. Luckily, we got there just in time. But now I have to deal with a pissy Noah because he had to use his Jeep to block the asshole. The most recent one was rough. I knew the moment I walked in; we were about to experience an ache in our bodies, down to our bones, that won't leave our minds for years to come.

Everyone has been on edge since and I can tell it’s affecting the way we all operate as a family. No one has been hanging out at The Hideout or The Handle. We’ve cancelled family dinners numerous times because someone always makes an excuse to not show up. Grayson and Logan have gone almost silent, and Noah hasn’t had a day off from the bar in over a week. Wes is off fighting some fire in California but before he left, he also wasn’t around. He is always a silent asshole sitting in the corner, yet he always shows up. But after that last mission, before he got called off, he stayed away.

And as much as I hate it, I have enjoyed not needing to be social and “on”. I can stay in the safety of my home, hiding behind closed doors while I indulge in the one thing that I know will be my ultimate demise. The only moments of freedom being the time I spent with Allie.

I stop my pacing and stare at the bottle in my hand. It glares back at me, and I can almost hear it taunting me.

You are worthless, and it’s all your fault.

My hand moves like it has a mind of its own and places the bottle against my lips. I try to fight it, but as the bottle tips back, my fight quickly dissipates.

“Fuck you.” My words bounce off the bottle. The warm liquid flows down my throat and I drain the rest of it, so maybe it will shut up and stop taunting me.

My eyes flutter closed for a moment and when I open them, they lock on my phone. Allie.

Unlocking my phone, I check to see if I missed a message during my moment of self destruction. She hasn’t read it.

Shit. Something is wrong and I can feel it in my gut. Pocketing my phone and wallet off the counter, I run outside. I race to my truck and my feet slip on the wet gravel and I fall to the ground. Not wasting a second, I get up, brush the gravel off my pants and grab the door handle on the truck, but it doesn’t open. I pat my pocket for my keys and can’t find them.

My vision blurs.

Look at you go. She needs you and you are so drunk you can’t even get to her. You are going to fuck this up like you do everything else!

I stand frozen in my driveway. What do I do? I can’t call anyone because if she is fine, she will be upset if I send people over.

Time slows, and a haze covers my eyes. I stare out at the trees and beg them to focus while the fire burns in my veins. I watch as the trees sway in the breeze, the fall air sending a chill down my spine.

I feel like I’m drifting, but then shake my head and clear the haze. Glancing at the road and back at my truck, I do the only thing I can. I run.

My feet kick up gravel as I bolt down the driveway and the second I hit the road, I pick up speed. The cabin is only a mile or two away from my place. My lungs burn, but I push harder. A carcomes barreling around the corner and they slam on their brakes to avoid me, but I don’t stop. I need to get to her.

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