Page 91 of California Wild

Then set the phone down on the counter, its faint glow pulsing in the dim kitchen light.

Jesse leaned forward, gripping the edge of the counter like it could anchor him. His pulse was too fast. His skin still crawling with everything he hadn’t shaken.

He was back.

But he wasn’t fucking home.

He ignored every other notification streaming in. Ignored the thousand thoughts slamming through his head, ignored the way his hands itched for something, anything, to take the edge off.

Instead, he moved on autopilot.

Microwaved something frozen.

Didn’t even look at what it was—some leftover protein-packed, health-friendly, bullshit meal he had stashed before deployment.

When the timer beeped, he grabbed the plastic container, tore the lid off, and devoured the contents standing right there in the kitchen. Didn’t taste it. Didn’t care. Just shoveled it in like a machine, chewing, swallowing, chasing fuel.

His stomach felt tight, wrong, restless.

Nothing satisfied.

Nothing ever fucking satisfied.

He tossed the empty container, turned, and headed straight for the shower.

The bathroom was still dark when he stepped inside, the only light coming from the glow of the city pressing against the blinds.

He stripped down, leaving his clothes in a heap on the tile.

Then, he stepped under the water.

It was hot as hell, scalding, steam rising instantly, curling against the glass walls.

Jesse pressed his palms to the tiled wall, hanging his head forward, letting the heat seep into his muscles.

Six weeks gone.

Six weeks of being clean. Being sharp. Being the man Colson finally trusted again.

And now?

Now his brain was itching, writhing, screaming.

One drink.

One hit.

Just one fucking night.

He could handle it.

Could keep it under control.

He was different now. He was stronger now.

His jaw tightened, his teeth grinding as the thought slithered through his head like poison.

His muscles twitched, remembering what it felt like to sink into oblivion.

---