Page 22 of Wasted Memories
We pulled into the driveway twenty minutes ago. Brendt offered to bring Jett inside so I could have some time alone. I knew Brendt was pissed at Jett too, but friends didn’t leave friends out on the curb when they needed them the most. When he hit me, the first thought that filled my head was that I wanted to leave him at that bar and never see him again, but after the sting of the impact wore off, I realized he needed me more than ever right now.
It was hard to watch him drink every day, but his addiction wasn’t voluntary. It ran in his blood. He didn’t leave me when times were tough in the beginning. I could only return the favor and be by his side through this.
Maybe I was a fool for staying, but I didn’t want to believe he’d do it again this time. I had taken Wesley’s phone number with no intention to ever call him. I wanted to prove him wrong. I wanted to show this whole town Jett wasn’t the monster they saw him become tonight.
I hadn’t realized I was crying until I felt the tears hit my arm. I swiped them away and tried to get myself together.
After a few minutes of counting my breaths, I got out of the truck and walked inside to find Brendt in the kitchen filling a glass with water.
“You may need to clean the toilet, and the sheets, and probably the rug too.” He had a sympathetic look on his face. We knew things were getting bad. We didn’t need to say that part out loud.
“Thanks for helping with him,” I said as I took a seat at the table. Brendt sat next to me, offering me the glass of water.
“I’ve never seen him this bad, Em.”
I stared at the glass in front of me. “He must’ve had a bad day. He doesn’t usually get in fights, even if he’s shitfaced.”
Brendt sighed and faced me in his chair. “I’m going to tell you this because I care about you, but you can’t get mad at Jett for it.”
I leaned my elbows on the table, burying my face in my hands. “Can this wait? I’m really not in the mood right now, Brendt.”
“Someone should’ve told you a long time ago. Hell, Jett should’ve been the one to tell you.” He paused. “Before you and Jett got together, he wasn’t just drinking and smoking cigarettes. He was doing harder things that he shouldn’t be mixing. It seemed like he had stopped when you two met, but then he got back into it. He’s not just taking them, Em. He’s dealing them.” I lifted my face, his words hitting me like a brick to the stomach. “He has his clients, people he sells to. He’s tried to get me in on it but I won’t do it. Luke started going with him on runs and now they supply anyone in town that wants some.”
Jett may overindulge in alcohol, but drugs? Was Brendt serious? He had to be drunk, talking out of his ass.
I shook my head, staring at the table like it’d save me from this shit night. “But he has a job, Brendt. He doesn’t have time for that on top of construction.”
“He quit that job months ago. Took dealing on full time once the numbers got up there.”What the actual fuck?
“But he leaves town to work onsite. Tell me that’s not a lie.” I gave him a pleading look. Where the fuck would Jett be going if it wasn’t for work?
“He has clients out of town, deliveries he picks up. The guy who runs the whole thing, he lives about an hour from here. He goes to his place, grabs a load every so often, and distributes it to his people. I really didn’t want to be the one to tell you, but he’s keeping you in the dark and you deserve nothing but the truth, especially with the way he acted tonight. I think he may be mixing because of the stress. I don't actually know if he’s using, but why else would he act like that? It isn’t safe for him to be doing any of this and I don’t know how to get through to him.”
I couldn’t process what he was saying. If Jett was using, that could be why his drinking was worse than it had been in the past. His family had a history of addicts to all sorts of things, but I had always hoped he wouldn’t go down that same road. At least not with drugs.
His father was in prison for the same shit Brendt was claiming Jett was doing. He always told me he didn’t want to be like him, but I guess that was a lie, too.
“I won’t tell him you told me,” I assured Brendt.
“If for any reason you think things are going south with it, get the hell out of here. You don’t want to be around if he’s getting his hands dirty.”
I nodded slowly, trying to take all of this in. This home that was once safe to me was now quickly proving to be the opposite.
Chapter Nine
Wesley
ThehouseIwasrenting was owned by a sweet elderly woman, Deanna. It had come unfurnished, save a few cross-stitch photos on the walls that I presumed she had made herself. I found her ad online and couldn’t pass up the cheap rent. She had handed me the keys less than an hour after I’d arrived in town.
I had a large chunk of money saved up, plus my dad’s inheritance, so I wasn’t too low on cash, but I didn’t want to blow through it all in a week. I kept the furniture buying at a minimum and purchased a king-sized bed, a couch, and a TV.
I slept on the couch fully clothed last night, keeping my phone plugged in and listening for it to ring. I don’t know why I thought being on the couch would get me there any quicker than being in the bedroom if Emerson needed me.
I replayed the look on her face after he’d slapped her, the way her head snapped to the side, the redness that enveloped her cheek, over and over again in my head. She put up a hard exterior but deep down, we were all struggling. Even she couldn’t hide that with her little dresses and gleaming smiles. She made a show as if everything in her life was perfect, but last night proved that to be wrong.
Ihatedthat her seemingly perfect life was just an image. She deserved it to be her reality.
Jett couldn’t have just been drunk to have been acting so damn crazy. His eyes were bloodshot the entire night, and it only got worse with the more he drank. Before Emerson showed up, he was talking up a storm to anyone who would listen. He was so loud the whole damn block probably heard him.
