Winter Solstice in St. Nacho's (St. Nacho's #5) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,25

because you’re gone, and I can almost think again, and what I maybe think is I will never again be the piece of shit I was when I was with you.

Maybe I loved you, but you disgust me now. I left you, and I’m gonna get better, and I’m never gonna be with you again.

Now, I hate you as much as I ever loved you,

Tug

Hope House, Day 30

They made us read our first day letters today. Our goodbye to drugs or whatever.

How come if I think about any thirty-day period in my whole life, none of them ever lasted as long as this one?

Brian keeps staring at me in group. Alcohol and cocaine, seriously? What does some party fuckboy want with me? Every time I’m alone, he finds me and starts asking questions. What kind of music do I like? Where did I go to school? Do I game? Because he’s got a Twitch stream with x many users.

Reminds me of my “nephew,” who sits in Dad’s suburban tract house thinking he’s all badass and shit because he wears earrings in his cartilage. Makes me want to puke.

Best case, Brian is looking for a big brother who will help him with his homework and chores. Worst, he’s looking to hook up. I think this might be a worst-case thing, but I’m not known for being an optimist.

I’ll have to ask Dr. Franklin for help if Brian keeps this shit up because I want to shove his entitled nose into his privileged brain.

I’ve finally decided to ask Luke if he’ll come to family group. It’s not like I have anyone else. I’m trying not to get my hopes up. He probably hates me after I played him to get Vicodin off that woman at the motel. He’s probably busy anyway. He probably doesn’t want to get involved any more than he did, because look where that got him.

I hurt him after he did some pretty nice things for me, and that’s on me.

I’m such a shit.

Oh well. I have to try. The worst he can do is vent and say fuck off. I’ve had worse things happen, and I’m still here.

Tug

Wildfires burned to the west of Galt, creating a smoky orange horizon. Ash sifted through the air, leaving cars gray and plants choked. The air quality sucked and the temperature was unbearably hot. Old people and those with asthma and other breathing problems were forced inside, whether they had AC or not.

The library had been filled with people looking to escape the heat for days.

Suzanne didn’t approve of people simply sitting around to get relief, but even she wasn’t callous enough to send them into the heat. Despite the environmental complexity, Keith and I brought in cases of water bottles. We gave them to anyone who looked like they needed to hydrate. We’d closed all the blinds to conserve energy. That day, none of us ventured out to buy lunch, so the break room smelled like ramen noodles and microwave popcorn and tuna salad.

I sat at the front desk, checking in returns. With it being Library Adventure Day—part of our summer activity schedule for kids—we’d gotten lots of picture books back. Not all were in the same shape they’d been in when they were checked out.

“Does this look like teeth marks to you?” I held up a Little Bear book so Keith could see.

“Yup.” Keith agreed. “Somebody tried to eat the moon cake.”

Suzanne came out of her office. “Luke, you have a phone call. Line two.”

“Got it.” I picked up the call. “This is Library Luke. How can I help you?”

There was silence on the line for a few seconds.

“Hello?”

“Library Luke?”

“Yes.” The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. “Who’s this?”

“Tug.” He hurried to add, “Don’t hang up.”

Anxiety clogged my throat as a thousand thoughts went through my mind. Had Tug stayed in rehab, or was this another cry for help? How should I play this? What would Echo do?

“Hey. What’s up?”

“I—” He laughed. “Oh wow. All the times I imagined this call, and now… I don’t know what to say.”

Silence fell between us. “Maybe start with why you’re calling?”

“I, um…” He sighed, and my heart sank. “I reached the thirty-day mark.”

He was still in the program? “You did? That’s wonderful. You get your first chip, don’t you? Do they do chips there? How do you feel?”

“Oh, pretty fucked up mostly. Between bouts of self-pity, straight up fear, and occasional rage. I guess besides all the pain I put off,