Page 20 of Misery and Ecstasy

“No, Atty. I really don’t think I’m fucking okay.”

“What the hell were you doing in town at three in the morning? How did you get there? Royce told us the cops picked you up but that you were ‘out’ and ‘working on your shit.’ Whatever the hell that means.”

“Listen, can we talk tomorrow or like, next week or something? I can’t even fucking make heads or tails of everything yet. I honestly don’t know how to answer your questions.”

Finally lifting my head, I look at him, my eyes pleading for him to drop it.

“Yeah, man.” The skin between his eyebrows bunches with concern and … pity, maybe. “Of course.”

“Thanks, brother.” I gently knock my fist against his arm before gripping the handle of the door. “I owe you one.”

Before I can get out of the car, he grabs my arm, and my head swivels back in his direction.

“Just get yourself right again, man. That’s all I want from you.”

With a stiff smile, I nod before turning away from him again and exiting the car. When the door slams shut, he drives around the back of the main house until he disappears from my view.

Atty lives in the barracks with the rest of the guys. I used to live there, too. Until Royce and Delilah renovated and moved into the shack on the other side of the property. When Maggie turned it down, Royce insisted I take the primary suite in the main house. I was hesitant, thinking it should go to her, but she was emphatic that she didn’t want anything to do with it. Technically, she still lives here, but she doesn’t come home often anymore.

Not since she caught Royce and Delilah together three years ago.

When I enter the house, I contemplate going directly upstairs and getting into the shower. But there’s something else calling my name. I make my way into the kitchen and pull open the freezer. Digging out the pint-sized delight, I grab a spoon from the drawer then lean back against the island in the middle of the kitchen.

Opening the lid of my favorite Ben and Jerry’s flavor—Chocolate Fudge Brownie—I dig in and practically melt faster than the ice cream does when it hits my tongue.

Moaning, I let my head fall back as I savor the flavors. My entire body feels like it could whither into the floorboards beneath me. Ice cream is my biggest guilty pleasure. I eat it every day, with not so much as the smallest amount of regret.

Well, I eat it every day that I’m not in jail or passing out in sentence-imposed therapy.

Just as I dig out a large brownie chunk and suck it from the spoon, the lights in the kitchen flash bright overhead, and my attention is drawn to a half-asleep Maggie standing in the doorway.

“Jesus, Draven. I thought Royce and Delilah were in here desecrating yet another surface in this house.”

“Sorry,” I mumble around the piece of brownie. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You … didn’t… Not really.”

“Want a bite?” Placing the spoon inside of the container, I hold it out to her.

She rolls her eyes but offers me a soft smile before hopping up on the island next to me. I haven’t seen Maggie smile much in the last couple years. Between her finding out about Royce and Delilah’s relationship then the death of her fiancé, she’s really had a tough go of things. Taking the ice cream from me, she scoops some out.

“So,” she begins once she’s eaten a couple spoonfuls. “Haven’t seen you around a lot lately.”

“Yeah, well I could say the same about you.” I flip the conversation back on her, taking the ice cream as she hands it back to me.

“Yes, but that’s nothing new for me. It’s not normal for you, though, so what’s the deal?”

“I’d tell you, but I don’t want you to think less of me.” I attribute the unexpected honesty to my fatigue.

“Seriously? Draven… Out of everything I know about you, you think you could tell me anything that would make me think any less of you than I already do?”

She looks up at me and laughs. Her glee tugs a smile from the deepest recesses of my soul. Which is no surprise because if anyone can lighten my mood with the way I feel right now, it’s her. Maggie and I have always had a closer, sibling type of bond. We can both be very critical of one another, but we’d have each other’s backs in a heartbeat.

“Oh, you got jokes?”

Taking another bite of a brownie, I hold the spoon between my lips as I replace the lid on the ice cream and put it back in the freezer. After rinsing the utensil, I place it into the dishwasher before joining Maggie at the island again.

I scratch my chin and pucker my lips, readying myself to talk to her.

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