Page 15 of Under the Ink

“Yeah, but—”

“No fuckin’ buts.” When Sage refused to look up from his mug, Mickey cleared his throat while running his hand over his dad-short hair. “Did you buy the H and share it with him?”

“No.”

“Wrap the tourniquet around his arm?”

“No.”

“Stick the needle in?”

“No.”

“Then knock that shit off. Jimmy wouldn’t have wanted you mourning for him like this.”

“You don’t know that.”

The older woman who’d taken their order brought two plates over, sliding them in front of both men in one quick motion. “Anything else?”

“No,” Mickey said. “Thank you.”

Sage stared at the eggs fried to sunny-side up perfection—and, combined with a whiff of sausage and the sight of the greasy hash browns, decided he just couldn’t bring himself to eat. So he picked up the coffee and took a sip.

At least it tasted okay.

Mickey had already eaten two bites of his pancakes and was scooping up a forkful of scrambled eggs. “Aren’t you gonna eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Come on, man. You need to eat something. You’re not gonna get to taste any of the Winchester’s fine meals for a long time—enjoy while you can.”

Sage laughed. When they’d been in high school, once a month they’d sneak off to the café for lunch—and it had been a treat. Now, Sage questioned their sanity. “I think I’ve already got a bellyful.”

Mickey ate in silence for a while and, to appease his friend, Sage took a bite of the sausage. As he chewed on it, he was surprised that it actually tasted pretty good, all the spices hitting the right notes in his mouth.

Maybe hecouldeat a little more.

After a couple of minutes of silence, he said, “I know I wasn’t directly responsible for Jimmy’s death—but I contributed.”

“How?”

“I was partying with him—and he brought a couple of girls back to his place.”

“Did youknowhe had smack?”

“No.”

“Then how could you have stopped him? Would he have let you talk him out of it?”

“Probably not.”

“And Bobby said you were givin’ him CPR when the EMTs got there. What else could you have done?”

Sage was quiet for a little as he processed his friend’s words. “Nothing.”

He appreciated Mickey’s pep talk but, as his mind went over and over the events of that night, he knew he wasn’t anywhere close to working through any of this shit.

In fact, there was only one thing that would truly make him feel better at this very moment.

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