Page 3 of Capacity
“Nurses are the worst patients,” He joked with a sigh. “You’re right, Lumi but I’m keeping you anyway. I’m putting you under an involuntary twenty-four-hour psychiatric hold.”
I fucking knew it.
I made a fist without thinking about the damage I’d done to my arms and cried out in pain. Everyone turned silent and the nurse jumped into action, pushing painkillers into my IV. It should’ve happened when I woke up.
“I don’t need to be on a psychiatric hold, Dr. Lawson,” I snapped once the pain receded a bit.
“You tried to commit suicide a year after losing Kaiden. You left your job. Nobody has heard from or seen you and you’re clearly suffering from depression and anxiety caused by grief. You need to stay here and talk to someone, Lumi. This is for your own good.”
I looked from person to person in that room. Every one of them had compassion and concern in their eyes. Fighting against Dr. Lawson’s wishes was futile. I could wade through twenty-four hours of psych evaluations if it meant I’d leave the fucking hospital.
…
CHAPTER 2
At first, I was mildly aware of the vomit stench in the air. Then the liquor clouds cleared in my head and I became hyper-aware of the pungent stench.
Fuck.
Had I thrown up in my sleep?
I sat straight up in bed and slimy chunks of partially digested food ran down my chest. My mouth was dry and the taste of stale liquor was tucked between my bloated taste buds but I didn’t taste any vomit. What the hell was going on?
I’d passed out drunk and threw up in my sleep enough times to know that I was not the culprit of the slippery food on my abdomen. I hopped out of bed and stumbled over the strap of a blue purse. I picked it up while brushing and wiping furiously at my stomach.
I rummaged through the leather bag and found a wallet. Inside was a driver’s license belonging to someone named Sky Lebowitz. My eyes snapped to the bed and I saw a patch of wrinkled sheets soiled with throw up. I rubbed my forehead and groaned. I was definitely covered in Sky’s vomit.
“Hey,” I called out. My voice was heavy with sleep and dehydration. “Sky?” I hoped to fuck that was her name. My vision was still blurry at best. Hell, her name could have been Skip for all I knew. I ambled to the bathroom and found Sky curled up on the cold floor with her head in the toilet bowl, whining.
“Hey, are you Sky?” I still had her ID in my hand. I glanced at it again after blinking several dozen times and balked at the birthdate printed on the license. “You were born in two thousand two? Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Hey, Knight. Good morning…” Whatever else she was about to say after good morning got tossed in the toilet.
I didn’t even remember bringing her home. She was a fucking baby. Ababy. She wasn’t even breathing when 9-11 happened for crying out loud. What the hell was I thinking last night?
My drinking had been bad…okayhorrible. It was horrible and I was a functioning alcoholic by anyone’s logical definition but bringing home and fucking an eighteen-year-old was the lowest I’d gone so far.
“Listen, sweetheart, we gotta get you out of here.” I was barely functioning myself and here I was trying to help a hungover teenager out of my house. Why don’t you get in the shower? I’ll make you some food while I get you an Uber.”
Sky looked up at me with thick black streaks of last night’s eye make up smudged down her rosy cheeks. The tip of her slender nose was bright red and her lips were flushed and swollen. She was probably dehydrated too. Drinking too much sucked all the moisture from your body.
“Why are you talking to me like I’m a kid, Knight? Last night you fucked me like I was an adult.”
I cringed inwardly at her words and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Last night I was…”
“You were turned all the way up,” she giggled, biting her bottom lip.
“Yeah, I was drunk as fuck. I clearly made some bad decisions and now I’m going to try like hell to forget them. So, let me apologize to you…it is Sky right?” I looked into her eyes trying to ignore the fact that her perky tits were out.
“Last night I was your pretty little slut.” She fell to her knees and tugged at the cotton pajama pants riding low on my hips. I gripped her bicep and made her stand up.
“Last night is over. Take a shower and I’ll fix you something to eat.” I turned on the water for her and closed the bathroom door behind myself.
Once I was in the kitchen, I wiped my chest and stomach off with a wet paper towel then made Sky a couple pieces of toast and a bowl of oatmeal. It was the least I could do after I brought her home and fucked her while she was drunk.
Shit. I had a drunk minor in my house. I could go to jail for that. I set her breakfast on the kitchen table and rushed into the bedroom. I found exactly what I was hoping not to find. Empty liquor bottles were on the nightstand in the middle of a circle of red cups.
Nice. Not only did I fuck a drunk teenager, I also gave her alcohol. My phone rang, making me jump out of my skin. Not because I was startled by the sharp sound slicing through my headache, but because it was my work phone. Why the hell were they calling me on a Sunday?
