Page 157 of Give Me Love

Removing his eyes from me, he takes a drag and inhales deeply as he flicks his ashes. “Bryce is being an idiot. Here you are defending him and he’s off doing God knows what.”

Red flags rise.

Whatishe doing?

“You never did tell me where he was.” I look down at my feet as terrible thoughts pass through my mind.

Could he be with another woman?

Would he do that?

“There are a few different places we could try. They’re big party scenes. I’ve been to them myself. If you’re up for it, we can go look when you’re done here.”

“Let’s go now,” I say, standing, my runaway mind fueling my quickness to find out where my man is.

Jace shrugs. “Okay.” He tosses his smoke and heads for his car.

“Let me just tell Becca I’m leaving and I’ll be right out.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Bryce

I rest my head back, surrounded by easy women in a smoke-filled room I’m not familiar with. The music from the sound system does nothing to mute my thoughts. I’ve been drowning myself in bourbon and fueling my mind with cocaine for the last few days because fuck it all to hell.

You try to help someone, ya know? You try to make them see there is a better road. But what do they do? They piss it all away.

I take a sip from my glass and sit up. My eyes are blurry. Focusing is not easy right now. White powder covers the table in front of me, and I see girls slouched down near the bed in the room next to this one. There’s any kind of drug you could want in this place. It’s a partygoer’s heaven, and I’m going to partake in it all.

Because who cares?

My own mother doesn’t, so what does that say about me?

I’m not good enough for her to love, to be better for, so why am I good enough for anyone else? I’ve been bouncing around parties for days now, hanging with the rich and over privileged like I am one.

But I’m a fake.

I’m just a boy who lucked up.

A phone buzzes near me, but I can’t figure out where it is. I pat my pockets, wondering where my own phone went, and then I remember I smashed it. I smirk and rest my elbows on my knees as I run both hands up my face and over my head. My eyes are watery, and I close one to focus on my reflection in the enormous wall mirror across from me. I’m pale, and my beard has grown. I look like shit. I drain my glass and stand up.

The floor sways and fucks with my mind. Something falls, and I look back and see an empty bottle of Old Fitzgerald roll across the hard marble. I blink my eyes, trying to unblur the scene around me. This place is full of people I don’t know, and I can’t quite remember how I got here.

I grip onto the arm of the couch and push off, heading toward the room with the women passed out on the floor.

Oh, how many times I’ve seen my mom in that exact position. A pretty girl sits on the bed near the dresser. She has long hair and a sweet smile, reminding me of K.

I miss her.

I lean against the doorway, and she looks up at me. This girl doesn’t have blue-gray eyes. She has dark ones that look like trouble.

“Hey,” she says.

I lift my chin. I watch as she wraps the rubber band around her upper arm and pulls tight with her teeth.

“Want some?” she asks over the band between her lips. I swallow the uneasiness in my throat.

Don’t do this, my conscience whispers.

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