Play On - Michelle Smith Page 0,62

be there in a few.”

“Need me to save you a six-pack?”

I scoff. “I need you to save me a lot more than that.”

“That bad? Oh, and hey, is Marisa comin’? Thought it was your night with your girl?”

“Yeah, well, things have a habit of changing in my life at the worst damn time.” Shifting the truck into gear, I back out of the mile-long driveway. “See ya soon.”

The thing is, we always think we have plenty of time. Then, before you know it, time’s ripped out from under your feet, and there’s nothing but you and the hum of a truck engine. Because your girlfriend was that close to offing herself.

Again.

chapter nineteen

Thanks to whatever saint invented beer and whiskey, I can barely see a damn thing. I like it that way. It’s a lot better than dealing with reality, when reality sucks balls.

The roar of the rushing river fills my ears as I settle back against the tree, next to Jay. I don’t have a clue how long he’s been here; all I know is that he was a goner when I got here. He had some fight with Brett over his brother’s wedding, which is coming up soon. Jay wants to go together. Brett thinks he’s nuts. It’s the same fight, different day. I know it’s shitty for him, but at least Brett’s not down at the county hospital right now, being poked and prodded and doped up with meds.

“How many’s that?” I ask Jay, tossing my empty can at the trash bag and missing by a foot. Whoops.

“Last of that six-pack.” He holds out the bottle of whiskey. “’Nother shot?”

My stomach bubbles. I cringe. “Nah. Can’t take more whiskey. Not yet.”

“More for me.” He shrugs and takes another swig. “Our love lives suck, dude.”

Screw it. I snatch the bottle from him and knock it back, the alcohol burning my throat. “Tell me ’bout it,” I say, passing it back to him. “You try callin’ Brett? Talk out…whatever?”

He shoves me. “Shush!” Glancing around, he must see that nobody gives a crap about us. The other guys are busy snaking their ways into their girls’ pants tonight. With all the trucks lined up along the water, there ain’t no tellin’ how many of our teammates are getting lucky right about now.

“You know, I figured out our problem,” Jay slurs. “What we gotta do is, we gotta stop lettin’ our lives depend on other people. Lettin’ another guy control your life is killer.”

“Yeah. Except a guy ain’t controlling my life.”

He snorts. “That’s right. I’m the only fag out here.”

I wince and nudge him with my leg. “Don’t talk about yourself like that, bro.”

“Just tryin’ to fit in with the rest of the people in this town. Don’t act like you don’t hear worse every damn day. And look at it this way: at least your girl’s not embarrassed to be seen with you.”

“Yeah. She just tried to kill herself instead.” I grab the whiskey again and polish off the bottle before chucking it across the riverbank. “Have you noticed that? How people close to me like to kill themselves? Wonder why that is.”

He gapes at me. “You’re really goin’ there? Seriously?”

I shrug. “I mean, let’s talk this through. Logic and all that.” I count off on my fingers. “My dad was so nose-deep in depression that it drove him off a bridge, and I never noticed. My girlfriend, who I’ve been around every damn day for weeks, snuck a razorblade into her room without me realizing she was gonna try killing herself again. I’m a fucking jinx, Torres. Might want to run while you can.”

He grabs my chin, jerking my face until he looks straight into my eyes. “I ought to beat your head against the tree for that. You’re not gonna sit here and blame yourself for this shit. Any of it.” He lets go of me, leaving my skin tingling. “And if you think about it, she didn’t really try to kill herself.”

Yeah, well, I don’t want to think about it. I came here to forget. I push myself to my feet, swaying. The blood’s rushed from my head and alcohol swirls in its place. I dig my keys out of my pocket. “I gotta get my drunk ass home before I end up facedown in the river.”

I think he tries to grab my hand, but yanks on my pants leg instead. “You ain’t drivin’, Braxton. You can barely stand.”

“I won’t drive,” I tell him. “I’ll just sleep in