me she hadn’t heard from Nate in a long time. He was on a bender, and he called her when he nearly caved. When she checked in on him, he seemed okay. After that, nothing. No correspondence at all. It worries me. Since leaving Hollow Ridge, I’ve been a bad friend and accountability partner.
It doesn’t help that I’ve been drinking up until several months ago, and the guilt made me stay away. Nate has his own shit to deal with. He’s temperamental and in the worst situation. How could I bother him with my addictions when he’s riddled with his own?
“We haven’t seen each other since Eleanor’s funeral, Toby. Yes, we need to see each other and talk. Especially about you drinking last night when you swore off alcohol.” His tone is chastising as much as it’s full of concern. It’s not news that whiskey is my weakness when no one expected a thing.
Being accustomed to alcohol on every front isn’t hard to hide when you matter so little. No one pays attention to the single uncle, son, brother... they care too much about their own lives to bother. So it’s not a surprise really, not with my childhood and fatherhood. If anything, that made it fateful. “Between you and Nathan, I’m not even sure how to keep you both sober.”
“You’ve spoken with Nate?”
“Yes, he called, strung out of his mind. He’s hurting.” The realization dawns on me; he’s suffering and I’ve been a shitty friend. If Lo knew I kept in contact with her brother just to avoid being a good friend, would she hate me even more? “Might as well start with you, and then I’ll go save him, too.”
“Save me? You told me to bring wine,” I chide, unable to jab right back at him. He chuckles on the other side of the phone, light-hearted, unburdened, happy. Something I haven’t felt in a long time.
“For me, idiot. You hate wine,” he argues.
“It’s booze. And reminds me of her. Of course, I hate wine.” The apathy in my tone is laced with condescension and negligence. Not apathetic at all, if we’re being honest.
“It was meant to end this way. You leaving, you discovering other venues, me getting my daughter...” he trails off. “Fate, Tobias. Definitely, fate.”
I shake my head, knowing he can’t see me. If this is fate, as he claims, then why does my chest still ache as if the pain is physical and not emotional? I’ve never been one for destiny or God’s plan. I’m all about the details. There’s no proof this was set in stone ages ago. It’s easy to refute a life that you absolutely abhor, and I’ve yet to accept my future. Whatever it may be.
My mind wanders to Joey. The woman from last night, the one who smacked me in the face with her words as much as this whiskey hangover, is something else. She’s the only reason I’d love to believe in this exhaustive universe of fate.
“I’ll see you tonight,” I grunt, hanging up soon after. My mind continues to replay what I can remember from our night together.
“Bend over,” I hiss, my voice not even slightly slurred while my vision spots a little. She turns, her hips shaking in the little black dress she sports. The heels do everything for her figure, making the globes of her ass sit higher. And fuck, this woman has an exquisite ass.
“You’re a bossy dick,” she grumbles, sashaying to make a point of how much control she has here.
“Yet your cunt is soaking for me,” I challenge, wanting to ram my cock deep in her and feel her squeeze me until she screams my name.
“Definitely not your doing,” she snarks, turning toward me with a smirk.
I stalk over to her, and the sound of my palm smacking her left cheek echoes in the bathroom. “Bet you’ll cream as soon as I touch you.”
“Is that a challenge, old man?” she taunts, wetting her bottom lip.
“Bet your goddamn ass, Sous.”
My mind tries to remember more, her moans, the way she felt around my cock as I sank into her. It’s crazy to crave the memories when every other time I’ve blocked every single one out. I couldn’t give a shit who was on the receiving end of my dick, as long as I had a good time. Until Joey.
I get ready for the night, jeans—which I usually never allow myself to wear—an untucked button-up, my Richard Mille watch, which is my most prized possession, and