Page 28 of Lips of an Angel

“There’s being comfortable, and there’s banging our best bartender in the bathroom. Don’t act like I’d never find out about that, and stop laughing at me!”

It was all I could do to shake my head. I knew Ryder wouldn’t keep his mouth shut for long—regardless of whether he mentioned me by name—and Angel was no fool.

I wiped away a drop of tequila from my lips after he grabbed the Cuervo from my hand. “Ryder’s not going to make it a thing, you know that.”

“That’s not the point.”

Feeling emboldened by the booze searing through my veins, I turned my head to face my best friend. “Angel Dawson, are you jealous?”

Angel flushed a deep shade of red and by the time his eyes narrowed to slits, I was doubled over in laughter. If I couldn’t tease him every now and then, what kind of friendship was that?

As punishment, Angel made me drink a glass of water to sober up while he held the tequila hostage. He took occasional sips, and part of me wondered how the hell he wasn’t plastered.Icertainly was. Then again, he’d always had a high tolerance, even higher than me, so I took the opportunity to simply enjoy some time with him.

I’d always been an easy guy to please. I didn’t need much in life. Apparently, the only thing I needed to remain happy was my best friend.

I was okay with that.

Gluttony

noun

An excessive and ongoing consumption of food or drink

Chapter 11

ANGEL

Everyone knowswhat it’s like to feel paranoid. We’ve all gotten up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and yanked back the shower curtain. Why? Because despite knowing that no one could possibly be in there with you, you have to make sure.

That was my entire life.

After the accident, it took over two years for my PTSD diagnosis. It was almost as if the nightmares weren’t enough for them, but I got there in the end. Years of therapy later, I was still learning how to manage it. The nightmares, however, weren’t even the worst part.

No, that honor belonged to the ever-present anxiety. Constantly on edge, I was ready to bolt at any given second. There was an incessant need to look over my shoulder. Every corner that I couldn’t see around brought me to the edge of a panic attack. I hated surprises. Despite the theme of our bar, I hated horror movies—ghost stories especially. Raleigh still hadn’t forgiven himself for making me watchThe Haunting in Connecticut.I couldn’t look in a mirror for months.

I didn’t like things I couldn’t plan for, such as Jack calling out sick. I knew it wasn’t his fault, but my anxiety didn’t care.

It didn’t help that we were creeping up on the anniversary of the accident. The texts and the invites and the “are you okays” were already rolling in. Every year, our hometown lit a bonfire at night in honor of the kids who died. No matter how many times Raleigh and I insisted we didn’t want anything to do with it, they still invited us—year after year. The weeks leading up to the date had a snowball effect on my anxiety, and tonight was no different.

Ryder offered to stay and clean up, but my pride wouldn’t let me accept. We could only let our employees work so many hours a week, and Ryder constantly toed that line. So there I was, cleaning the dark, empty, satanic bar all on my own—and nearly pissing myself at every unexpected sound. Ones that I’d typically be well-adjusted to. Each groan or creak or snap seemed to creep closer. Just when I’d convinced myself that they were nothing, there’d be another one.

It wasn’t entirely my fault—I was on edge after that text message Eli had sent me earlier. What the hell did we “need to talk” about? I hadn’t been in many long-term relationships, but I’d watched enoughFriendsto know that those words weren’t what anyone wanted to hear.

Finally, after I heard noises from the bathrooms that Iknewwere cleaned and locked, I caved and texted Eli. Texted again when something clattered to the floor in the kitchen. Realistically, that could’ve been the result of me hurriedly putting things away so I could get the hell out of there, but my brain wouldn’t be assuaged until someone else confirmed it. I called Eli next and when it went to voicemail, I went to plan B.

Raleigh was upstairs, but it took three tries to get him to answer his phone. He’d been drinking. I couldn’t say I was surprised, since he’d been using Jose Cuervo as a pacifier for the better part of a week. I didn’t necessarily like it, but getting Raleigh to listen to anyone other than himself was a challenge. Hell, getting him to listen to hisownbrain was tough. His drinking wasn’t impacting his mood or his behavior at work, so I had to let him work through it on his own.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

The simple sound of his voice was enough to soothe me, but I needed more. I put my phone on speaker so I could hear him talk while I texted him my response.

I think there’s someone here.

“Ryder checked everything before he left, right?”

Yes, but something’s not right.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Angel. This time of year always has you on edge.”

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