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CHASE
I blink my eyes open to see the living room ceiling hovering above me. What the fuck? I rack my brain on why I’m lying here as I look down at my fully clothed body. My head falls back, cracking into the hard floor as flashes of the night before come back to me in pieces.
I know I went to the bar after telling Drake I was going home, and then he had to come looking for me. I remember the devastation on Addison’s face as she yelled at me for worrying her. Shame courses through me when I recall telling her, quite harshly, to leave me alone.
I wonder where she is now. The house is so quiet, and it’s not like her to sleep in. I wouldn’t be surprised if she woke up and simply went about her day like I didn’t exist. A small voice nags, telling me she probably left just like I told her to. Why wouldn’t she? I wasn’t giving her a reason to stick around.
I groan as I roll over slowly, pausing on my elbows and knees as every single ache and pain settle deep in my bones. They don’t hurt nearly as much as my pride, though.
What the hell is wrong with me?I’m way too old to be getting wasted and passing out on the floor like a goddamn frat boy. I’m way too old to be staying out all night and leaving my woman guessing on when I’ll be home or if I’m even okay.
On unsteady legs and with a couple of groans, I rise. My head spins with the residual effects of liquor, the taste of Jack Daniels still coating my tongue. I try to swallow, but my throat is so dry and scratchy that it just causes me to cough.
I pull out my phone to check the time as I drag my ass up the stairs to go to the bathroom. Ten in the morning. Jesus. The thought of Janice bringing Willow home and seeing me passed out on the floor roils my stomach. That would have terrified both of them, but especially Willow after having just buried her mother yesterday.
“Goddamn it!” My discordant shout echoes through the hallway.
What if something had happened to Willow while I was passed out drunk like a fucking idiot? What if she’d had a panic attack, and my mom couldn’t have calmed her down? What if something had happened to Addison or the baby when she kept repeatedly calling me last night?
Mouth tight, I slam my palm into the bathroom door, and pain radiates through my wrist and into my forearm. “Fuck!”
Bile rises up my esophagus, and I hang my head as I place my hands on the counter and take deep breaths. I’m not even sure what my stomach could manage to throw up at this point, but I don’t want to find out. When it finally calms, I bring my gaze to the mirror in front of me. I stare hard at the man looking back at me—lifeless bloodshot eyes in sunken sockets, hair in tufts every which way, mouth drooping in the corners and surrounded by stubble.
Up until this week, I would have said I was a good man. But now? I don’t recognize this asshole.
If Emily were here, she would have dragged me off that floor by my ear and kicked my ass, and if I’m being honest with myself, I wouldn’t have blamed her. If she could see me now, I know she’d be ashamed. Hell, I’m ashamed of myself.
I haven’t been the man I promised her I’d be after she was gone. I haven’t been the man I promised myself I’d be for Addison and Willow either, and that has to change.
If any partner treated Willow with the kind of disrespect Addison has dealt with this week, I would be pounding down their door and demanding answers.
“Fuck you, you bastard,” I mutter at my reflection. I was an asshole to the woman I love because I couldn’t process the pain of losing Emily. But she’s gone, and there’s nothing I could have done to save her. She fought so hard, and I fought too, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. I have to accept that before her illness claims more victims.
I turn on the faucet and gather a couple handfuls of water to wet my throat with, then strip down and hop into the shower. I keep the water ice cold, hoping it can shock my system into waking the fuck up. My back hurts like a motherfucker, and my stomach still isn’t settled. I remind myself again that I’m way too old for this bullshit and vow to never drink like that again. As the water slices into me, I shake out my wrist, sore from the earlier smack to the door. I must have hit it just—
Suddenly it dawns on me—my back, my head, my stomach, my wrist, my regret. I stare at my sore hand, and in a flash, I’m smacking it against the hard tile. Pain shoots all the way up to my shoulder. I suck in a breath through my teeth, but at least I fucking feel it. I catalog all the pain, relishing every single ache and twinge, because for the first time in five days, I really feel it.
It hits all at once, just like that first time in Emily’s room. My chest burns with a breath I can’t seem to let go of. It bounces around, straining against my lungs until finally bursting out of me. With a sharp cry, I allow every moment of the last five days to crash into me, lighting a small flame inside my rib cage.
The ache burrows itself into my bones as jolts of lightning shoot through my limbs. It’s like my body is on fire from the inside out, and as I gasp for air, clawing at my skin, all rational thought leaves my mind. I lose my balance, falling against the tile and sliding down to the cold porcelain. Sobs rack my body, my tears blending with the icy water that rains down on me.
I feel like I’m melting from the inside out, but before I can combust, the water is turned off. In moments, Addison’s in the showers, arms wrapping around me over a thick towel. She’s speaking, but I can’t seem to piece the words together, so I stop trying. Soon, her distraught cries tangle with mine, and as I weep in her arms, I beg her for forgiveness, promising over and over that I can be the man the three of them deserve.
I grip her so tightly that I’m worried I’ll hurt her, but she’s always accepted all I have to give, the good and the bad, and she continues to hold me close, whispering words of comfort. As my sobs start to fade, reality slowly seeps in, and I’m absolutely mortified to find myself naked in the shower and crying in her arms.
“Jesus, Addison.” I pull back slightly to maneuver my arms so they’re now over hers and run my hands over her hair and face. “I’m so sorry you had to see me like this. I’ve only ever wanted to be strong for you, but I can’t seem to get it right.”
“No more apologizing, Chase. We’ll figure all of this out. I promise.” She pauses for just a moment, looking down at our joined bodies. “But for now, we need to get you out of here. You’re ice cold, and Willow will be dropped off soon. We need to get changed, and maybe you can lie down for a little bit.”
“We still need to talk. There’s so much more I want to say.”
“I know,” she says quietly, placing her forehead against mine. “We’ll talk tonight after Willow goes to bed. For now, let’s just put our best foot forward in being there for her.”
