act and turn this shit train around. For her, maybe I can.
I amble down my long driveway to my automatic gate and punch in the code to open it, and walk out into the main road. The security lights flick on and my yard shines like it’s fucking day light. It’s a fa?ade—the perfect house and cars, and then me with my almighty career. None of it means anything. I’m a fucking puppet controlled by addiction and guilt. The road tonight is deserted, not a car in sight. Taking another huge sip from the bottle, I sit down in the middle of the fucking road.
“What the fuck now?” I scream to the damn stars. The whiskey warms my stomach and the familiar drunk sensations start coursing through my numbing body. It’s the feeling I’m after. It erases. “What the hell do I do now, Stone?” I whisper. I speak to everything and nothing at the same time.
Leaning back, I let gravity pull me down until I’m lying, shirtless, on the cold rough pavement. One hand on the bottle, I shut my eyes praying for a huge, heavy truck to come barreling down the road. I’m so sick of the pain. I’m sick of forgetting he’s gone. I’m sick of reliving his death over and over like fucking Groundhog Day. Tonight I add I’m sick of seeing Windsor from afar, but mostly I’m sick of everyone saying how lucky I am.
I tip the bottle to my lips without spilling a drop. “When does my fucking luck get to run out?” I shut my eyes when a pair of headlights register and tighten my hold on the bottle. It’ll break it any second…the whiskey bottle…and me.
A car door slams. Someone approaches. “Get out of the freaking street right now!” Windsor yells. I’ve never heard her so angry, lethal. I open my eyes. She’s standing over me, eyes wide like some sort of rabid angel.
With the headlights beaming I can’t see the blue of her eyes and I wish I could. It’s the only thing that chases away the bad. She came after me. Windsor is here. I’m not looking at her from afar, or spying on her when she has no fucking clue I’m around. She’s here.
“I said get out of the fucking street, Maverick!” She’s also furious.
With great fucking effort I sit up. The alcohol owns the gravity. It wants me down. Windsor reaches down and helps me to stand and hobble over to her car, and then into the passenger seat. I lean against the leather seat and close my eyes.
“How is it possible you got that drunk since you left my condo? What the fuck is wrong with you? I came straight here. Did you drink a few bottles on your jog home? Jesus, Maverick. Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” I hear her tears coming. I’m scaring her.
I let my head roll to face her and open my eyes. “You,” I say.
She slams the brake pedal and I jerk forward, slamming my face on her dash. Bitch move. “Bullshit,” she whispers, a smile gently playing on her lips. “You do this to yourself. I’m sick of you blaming everyone else for it.” She pulls into my driveway and stops in the parking spot she always used to park in. I don’t even try to get out. She opens my door a few seconds later. “Your face is bleeding. Fabulous.”
I ignore the blood—I can’t feel it. “I can’t believe you’re with him,” I say, because it’s the only lucid thought I have. Thankfully I can see her blue eyes now. A little of the pain in my chest diminishes. She’s not yours. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and my stomach.
“I’m not with him,” she replies, pulling me out of her car and helping me into the house. Her hands are all over me so I take my time, relishing in being this close to her. It surely won’t last long. “I told you I forgave him and I’m merely giving him a second chance for a friendship…or possibly more, depending,” Windsor stutters, pushing me down into a leather chair.
I catch onto her hesitance immediately. Even drunk Maverick wants her confessions. It’s uncanny how quickly I can sober up enough to hear what she has to say. I can’t believe this is how it’s going down. I finally get her back in my fucking house and it’s nothing I consider ideal. I never pictured this scenario. Her