Page 149 of A Love That Broke Us
“Bye.”
I end the call, and press play on my show. Maybe it will help me fall asleep. It won’t—but it’s something.
Chapter Forty-Seven
JENSEN
PRESENT DAY
I driftin and out of consciousness, my eyes fluttering. Blurry shapes move around me, and every sound feels muffled and far away.
Jesus, my heart is pounding.But it’s slow, methodic—loud.
“Oh, good. You’re alive,” a voice says.
Is that… Alley?
What the hell is happening? Did I have surgery again?
“You dropped these.”
I feel something land on my chest, and I force my eyes open. My vision sharpens just enough to make out a woman stepping into a skirt, pulling it up around her hips. She’s in her bra, eyeliner smudged beneath her eyes.
She’s pretty, maybe. Hard to tell beneath sunken eyes and hollowed-out cheeks, her hair a tangled mess.
I groan, head fuzzy, my gaze shifting down to the little plastic baggie she tossed on me. I’m shirtless—and my pants are undone.
Panic surges, nausea rising fast. “Fuck,” I rasp. “What the fuck?”
Her eyes flick to me. “Relax. We didn’t sleep together. You got up to piss, came back with your pants halfway down, then passed the fuck out on the floor.” She lets out a dry laugh. “Classy.”
She bends to grab something off the floor, her tone flippant. “Good thing, too. Jake and I went to town after. That could’ve been awkward… unless you’re into watching. Are you?”
Her words bounce around in my head like bumper cars, slamming into each other while I try to make sense of what she just said.
What? I passed out?
I try to lift my head, but it’s too heavy. My neck gives out halfway. “What?” I ask, my voice scratchy.
“Are you into watching?” she repeats, way too casually. “Better yet, are you into threesomes? Because Jake’s still here, and you’re hot, so…”
“No. Jesus. Fuck no, I’m married.”
She laughs as she pulls a shirt over her head. “Right. You know, you were passed out for a whole thirty minutes. It’s not like you’re a saint. That shit’ll knock you on your ass. Especially the first time smoking it.”
“I smoked something?” My mind is spinning, trying to dig through the fog, to remember what I did, what I took.
Where the fuck even am I?
I can’t remember. I don’t know where I was earlier tonight, or how I got here. Shit. I can’t remember the last fucking month.
My relapse hit hard. I spiraled fast. Worse than ever before. I don’t remember it ever feeling like this.
She hums but doesn’t answer. “You gonna be alright?”
“What did I smoke?” I ask again. I try to sound firm, but it comes out groggy, slow and slurred.
She looks down at me—her expensive heels just a few feet from my face. “Oxy.”
