Page 20 of Flyboy's Nightingale
“I’ll follow you out. There’s not much more I can do here today.”
“What’re your plans for tonight?” she queries, throwing herself down in the chair across from me.
“Me? A stiff drink, my PJ’s, and watching reruns ofRizzoli & Isleswhile reading my new book.” I sigh as I shut my computer down and gather my stuff.
“That sounds boring. Do you want to grab a drink and dinner with me and Ax?” Avery asks, distracted by her phone.
I watch her as she smiles wide before typing something on her screen. I can’t help the smirk that stretches across my face while watching my friend light up like that. She’s had such a heartbreakingly hard life, that finally seeing her brighten from within—like she is now, makes me beyond happy for her.
“To be honest, I’m ready for my PJ’s and getting some much-needed sleep.” I smile at her, not wanting her to feel like I’m brushing her off.
“Fine, fine. Have fun! I’ll see you tomorrow.” She smiles while standing, heading for the door. “Oh, I forgot to mention, Flyboy starts therapy here this week.”
My jaw hangs when she lets that bomb drop. “Are you kidding me? Avery, I swear to all that is holy I’m going to kick your ever-loving butt for this!” I yell at her retreating, laughing back.
That’s it! I am officially done with this day. I throw my stuff into my bags, lock my office door, and rush for the office building’s exit. When I make it to my car, I pull it open, and promptly fall into the driver seat. Once I get the car started, Icheck my surroundings before backing out of my spot. I cannot believe that Avery would agree to let Flyboy do his therapy here at the center I work at. Since Avery took over running this facility, she’s done so well with all the updates, new equipment and training that within two months, our patient load was at its max. So, my question is, where the hell did she find the time for another patient?
As I’m driving, I use voice command on my phone to call in my favorite Chinese food order for pickup. I stop by the liquor store, purchasing the best Vodka they have in stock that I can afford, then swing through the restaurant, grabbing dinner as I make my way home. As I come barreling down my street, I notice an unusual car parked to the side. I slow, inventorying, and taking in everything I can of the vehicle to memorize just in case I need the information later for any reason. I pull into my drive, throw my car in park, and pull the key out from the ignition. Movement in the rearview mirror catches my eye, causing me to pause.
I watch as the vehicle slowly rolls by. I sit still, afraid to breathe as it slowly makes its way down the street at the pace of a ninety-year-old with a broken hip. Once it passes, I grab the rest of my things, and step out of the car, making my way inside of the house. Once through the door, I make sure to close and lock the door. Sighing, I relax against the wall, thankful to finally be home and ready to relax.
The last few days have been stressful and emotionally exhausting. Tonight, I’m going to just hang out and enjoy my dinner and some alcohol while I rewatch my favorite show. There’s gonna be no dealing with Avery and her crazy ways; those can wait for another day and time.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Flyboy
Rollingmy way down the hallway into the main room, I sigh when I don’t see anyone around. I slowly roll my way behind the bar, thankful that it’s wide enough for my fucking chair to fit around. I glide my way over to the long wall that holds bottles of liquor, looking for anything I can grab and take back to my room. Grabbing a bottle of Vodka, I try to turn my chair, banging into the back wall of the bar causing the bottles on the shelves above to rattle and rock. Snarling, I turn my chair the other way, bumping the wall. I don’t know how many times I try to maneuver my way out of the bar until I’m fucking done and toss my hand up into the air, mumbling, “Done.”
Grabbing the bottle of Vodka in my lap, I hurl it at the back of the bar. Reaching out blindly, I grab whatever is within reach, and start just throwing shit. I continue until there is nothing left. I sit there, breathing like a racehorse that has just run its third consecutive race. I take in the mess littered around like the shattered pieces of my life.
“Well, it looks like I won’t be getting a drink anytime soon,” Torch drawls, pulling out a stool and sitting down at the bar.
Opening one eye, I glare at the asshole.
“Want to tell me what brought on you being pissed off and throwing a tantrum?” He lifts one brow in question.
I sigh, giving up on any chance this man will leave me alone while being stuck in my own fucking misery. “I rolled back here to get a fucking drink. Now that I’m back here, I can’t fucking get out. Let’s just say, this is what happens when you corner me,” I grip, narrowing my eyes at the offending object.
“Well, I guess when you surround yourself with overgrown children that’s what happens,” Edge sasses as she makes her way to sit beside Torch.
I just flip her the bird, not willing to say anything at all in response. Trying once again to get myself out of this entrapment, I reach down and grab the outer bars on the wheels and concentrate on turning them at the same time. My right arm and hand scream in pain, to the point I want to throw up. I close my eyes, doing everything I can to shut out the world around me and get myself out of this situation. I bump into the wall and the back of the bar with every turn I make, but I won’t let the miscalculations stop me from getting myself out from behind here. My arm is screaming, my head is whirling, and I’m ready to just fucking toss in the towel when with the next spin of my wheelchair I don’t hit anything. Opening my eyes, I look around and I’ll be fucking damned I’m out from behind the bar and into the open space of the main room.
“I’ll take it from here,” the prospect tells me as he grabs the handlebars and starts pushing me forward.
The man that I am wants to tell him to fuck off, that I can do this for myself. Right this second though, I’m not that man. I am weak, worn-out, and beyond the point of being a complete douchebag just because I’m pissed at the world for the bullshitthat life continues to dish out. The prospect continues pushing me down the hall toward my room as Coin comes strolling down the hallway toward us, looking pissed.
“Yo, brother, you good?” I inquire.
He looks down at me, and asks, “Where’s your phone?”
“I dropped it on the floor in my room and couldn’t bend over to snatch it,” I state as I shrug.
“Man, all you have to do is ask and a brother would grab it for you,” he growls as he glares at me.
I shrug because when the fuck will they understand that I’m sick down to my core of asking for help and having others do shit for me. Having been fiercely independent for most of my life, this fucking accident has humbled me to the point of wanting to give up. I hate that I can’t do some of the simplest of things. Every fucking action has to be well thought out in order for me not to hurt myself further. Iknowmy brothers will help if I ask; that’s not the problem though. It’s my fucking pride; it’s taken a veritable beating for months now and my emotions, which are normally in check, are at the point they’re going rogue on me. I never know what’s going to fly from my mouth and I know it’ll just be a matter of time before I smart off and end up with a fist to my face.
