Page 30 of Where Happiness Begins
Frank’s head bobs up as if I’ve finally captured his attention. As if I’ve finally taken his bait. And fuck me, I think I might have.
“You want the honest answer?” he says, closing his book and putting it on the table. Crosswords.
When I simply stare, my face feeling warm from all the emotions boiling inside and looking for an outlet that doesn’t exist, he says, “It won’t.”
“I’m sorry?” He’s been on my back all this time to talk.
“You’re right.” He puts his hands on the table. “Laying it all out to some random man won’t magically solve all your issues.”
I don’t think he’s ever annoyed me as much as he does right at this moment.
“But it just might be the one thing that will keep you from tipping over the edge. It was for me.” His gaze turns upward as if he’s getting lost in thought. “Alcoholism is a pretty lonely thing. We spend so much energy hiding our problem, making sure that our loved ones don’t know how much we’re struggling.”
He drags a hand over his mustache. “And we think our experiences are unique, but really, they’re so common it’s almost embarrassing. And I can’t erase the mistakes you made or the people you hurt because of alcohol, but I can help you think of ways to repair your wrongs, and most importantly, I can let you know that you sure as heck aren’t alone.”
Alone.
It resonates in my head as if he’s shouted it inside my empty corpse and there’s nowhere for the word to go, echoing forever.
When wasn’t I alone? When I was a kid and my parents would leave me and Brandon alone for weeks with nannies? When I was playing shows all over the country and it felt like I was in a different world from the entire crowd? When my friends and family decided they wanted nothing to do with me the moment I decided to step away from the thing that was making me sick?
Frank’s looking at me so intently, I want to hide under the table. I don’t like the way it feels, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking and how I’m feeling even when I haven’t said a word. I don’t understand how he’s smiling once again. This man, who I’ve been an ass to, who owes me nothing, and yet who’s there when so many ran at the firstopportunity they had.
He grabs his book and slides down the booth. “I think we’re done for tonight, but you should probably think about this.” When he stands and I remain there, it doesn’t matter that he probably measures five-seven and I usually have two heads over him: it still feels like he’s way, way bigger. “No, talking to me won’t solve your issues. But maybe it’ll help you see that it’s possible to get to the other side of this thing.”
Chapter 13
The next day, I find Carter in the same spot in the parking lot, waiting to drive me home from work.
And the next day. And the next.
It doesn’t matter that I haven’t asked him once for a lift. Every night, he’s there, even when I finish a little early.
During all those drives, we remain silent, and while it’s never uncomfortable—soft music playing as Carter drives with one hand on the wheel and the other propping up his head—I don’t know what they mean. It’s confusing. I’ve had a full schedule at the bar since we didn’t have any shows planned, so other than during those moments, we haven’t seen much of each other.
However, tonight, as I exit the bar with Jayson right behind me, the back of his hand accidentally brushing my ass, I couldn’t be more thankful to spot Carter’s car in the driveway, one tattooed arm hanging out of his window.
I’ve had a feeling since the shift started that tonight was going to be the night my boss would truly shoot his shot, and I wasn’t ready for all that would entail. More than that, I hated the thought of being alone in a hidden parking lot at 3:00 a.m. when I rejected him.
“All right, good night,” I tell Jayson over my shoulder, already walking toward the Mustang that feels like a beacon of safety.
“Wait,” my boss says. I wince. “Don’t leave so soon.”
I don’t turn around. “I’m pretty beat, actually.” When I go to take another step, a bony hand wraps around my wrist, sending a frigid flood down my body. Iknewhe’d do something like this. I pull against it to see how tightly he’s holding me, which somehow is amusing to him.
His voice grates against my skin as he chuckles. “Come on, don’t—”
“Take your hands off my wife. Now.”
We both startle at Carter’s voice that seemingly comes out of nowhere. His car door has been left open behind him and while he’s walking and not running, the giant footsteps he’s taking bring him to where we’re standing in a second.
My breaths come in ragged, either from the threatening feel of Jayson’s fingers or from those words coming out of Carter’s lips.
“Wife?” Jayson says with nervous laughter as he finally lets me go. I take a step in Carter’s direction, wanting to put as much space between us as possible. “She never said she was married.”
She.Like some person whose name doesn’t even deserve to be mentioned.
“So that gave you free rein to touch her?” Carter still sounds calm, but this is nothing like his usual aloof self. His body radiates lethal coolness.
