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“He’s sober now, shithead,” Xavier fills in the blanks.
Silence descends over the group.
“He’s what?” Theo blurts out.
I cast a glance toward Dia. Her mouth is parted, her eyes are widened, and she looks paler than she did a second ago.
“You’re sober?” Her voice cracks on the last part.
This has to be the first time she’s voluntarily talked to me since I came back. My chest is bursting with joy, but I try not to let it show, giving a small nod.
“How long?” she asks.
“Over a year.”
She clamps her mouth shut, the truth overwhelming her. I can practically see her putting the timeline together in her head. I left a year and two months ago, which means…
“So, you stopped after…”
She doesn’t need to say the rest.
“I did.”
“Oh,” is all she brings herself to say.
I gaze into her eyes, finding her disbelief oddly satisfying.
I told you I did the work.
The truth is, I haven’t had a drop since the accident. I thought I was going to die when Jesse pulled Dia’s lifeless body out of the water. I almost did die when I watched him give her CPR and she didn’t wake up. I couldn’t breathe, panic crushing the air in my lungs and making me gasp like I was the one drowning. I started puking everything my stomach contained, and when he managed to bring her back, I ran.
That was the turning point for me.
The moment I knew things had to change.
We maintain eye contact until Chance intervenes, pulling Dia onto his lap and looping his arm around her waist possessively. Dia doesn’t protest, but her discomfort is as obvious as her boyfriend’s insecurities.
Staring me dead in the eyes, he tightens his hold on her body, placing a kiss on her shoulder as if to brand her skin with the word “Mine.”
I bite back a laugh.
She’s not his.
Not by a long shot.
But I have to admit…
Right now, she seems to be a lot more his than she is mine.
Anger scrapes at my insides when he whispers something in her ear, and she lets out the cutest laugh I’ve ever heard. The cherry on the sundae is how fast he tilts her chin back with his index and kisses the shit out of her. I glance around the room to find the group staring at me with nauseating pity on their faces.
Fuck this.
“I need some air.” I’m off the couch before anyone can muster a reply.
* * *
I’ve had many people tell me that being the only sober person at a party would make me want to drink again. They said the temptation would be near unbearable when surrounded by alcohol, but I find the opposite to be true.
