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Hunter grunts.
I suppose that’s all I’m getting out of him. Honestly, I should be thanking my lucky stars I was able to get him to come home, let alone carry his ass here. Now to get him safely tucked away in bed.
The door to Hunter’s apartment opens and I watch as Rachel, Seth, and Alex peek their heads outside. Rachel’s eyes are still swollen, but she looks like she’s doing a bit better.
“Shit,” Seth mutters while he and Alex rush toward me.
Seth takes Hunter’s other arm while Alex takes my place.
“Oh, thank God,” I groan while stretching my shoulders. “That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”
“Where did you find him?” Rachel asks.
“The bar,” I say while following the bros inside.
I hear Rachel whimper and grab her, wrapping my arm around her. She nestles close to my chest. “I was so worried,” she whispers. “I really thought something bad was going to happen.”
“The worst is over.” I kiss the top of her head. “Don’t worry, he will be fine. He’ll just have a terrible hangover in the morning.”
“I’d say!” Seth shouts from the hallway.
I follow after them, tugging Rachel along with me. The both of us watch as Hunter topples into bed with his shoes still on. Seth pokes at Hunter’s shoulders while Alex frowns down at the NFL star.
“Hey,” Seth says while continuing to poke Hunter. “We sleep here, too. Move over, you big lug.”
Alex sighs and bats Seth’s finger away from Hunter. “Give it up, Seth. He’s out. We’ll sleep in the living room.”
Seth groans and he stalks out of the room, reminding me of a five-year-old.
“It’s not that bad!” Alex calls after him.
I would laugh if I could, but I’m too worried about Hunter at this point. I release Rachel and stride toward my friend, taking off his shoes and dropping them on the floor. My eyes fall on the cell phone resting on the nightstand.
“Did Hunter tell you anything?” Rachel asks as I take the phone.
I shake my head while swiping up, seeing that Hunter hasn’t set a lock on it. “No,” I breathe, my eyes winding at the several missed phone calls and text messages from Dr. Forrester. These messages date back to October, meaning he’s been drinking for at least a month, if not longer.
Give up on me,one of his messages reads. The very last one he sent his therapist.There is no hope.
Well, shit,I think while placing the phone back on the nightstand.This is way out of our control. What can we do? We’re not licensed professionals. And Hunter obviously needs professional help.
But we have to do something,I decide while leaving the room and returning to the kitchen. Seth is picking at the turkey remains on the counter. Alex is eating the mashed potatoes directly out of the bowl. Both look absolutely miserable.
“I think we should talk to Hunter when he’s awake tomorrow,” I start.
Both Seth and Alex make a face. I swear, sometimes they seem like the same person.
“Are you sure about that?” Seth asks. “Maybe it’s better to let this go.”
“I think he needs to know we’re there for him, even when he makes mistakes.”
Rachel touches my shoulder lightly and I lean into her touch, enjoying her warmth, her support. “I agree,” she says softly. “I don’t think he did this to be cruel. I think something terrible is going on.”
“I worry things might get worse for him,” I say softly. “I don’t want him to think that he can’t talk to us.”
We all nod in unison, quietly. No one says a word. I reimagine the events from before—the knife in Hunter’s hand, the shouting, the crying, the empty shot glasses. A shiver runs down my spine and my shoulders tighten with anxiety.
I only hope Hunter hasn’t completely thrown in the towel.
