AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I rear back, tensing, and quickly avert my gaze to stare hard and unseeing at a crack in the tile.
My chest squeezes as realization and guilt and unbearable grief barrel through me.
I’m a fucking idiot.
Mason whimpers when I rip my face from his hand.
It’s not me he sees. It’s not me, it’s not me.
His breath hitches just as my eyes seal shut.
Breathe. Just breathe. He’s drunk. High. Out of it. Not his fault.
I start to push off the floor to stand, but he just follows, tumbling after me. I flop down on my ass and catch him with my arms under his pits. Over his head, I find Waylon staring blankly ahead, eyes redder than they were moments ago.
Next to him, Ivy sits on her knees, chewing the corner of her lip. She’s looking around the room at a loss, clearly uncomfortable.
It’s stupid. Irrational.
But I feel like it’s my fault.
Like all of this could’ve been avoided.
Mason wraps his arms fully around me, and I work my aching jaw side to side. “Come on,”
I mutter, blinking rapidly. “Let’s get outta here. Way?”
Dazed hazel eyes lift to mine, and I don’t miss the wrinkle that forms between his brows. Or the agony that shines back at me a moment later.
Sucking in my cheek, I look away. “Can you help me get him to the car?”
“Sure,” he chokes out..
Ivy’s quiet as we help heave Mason off the floor, and start making our way back downstairs. Waylon stumbles a bit when we get in the hall, and I ask, “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He’s drunk, but nowhere near as bad off as Mason. If anything, I get the feeling dealing with this sobered him real quick.
As if summoned, an image of the scene we walked into only minutes ago flashes through my mind. The way Waylon was holding Mason up in the shower, his fingers clasped awkwardly around his face. The vomit…
“I didn’t know what to do. Something wasn’t right.”
I steel my jaw, shaking it off, trying not to imagine what that might’ve looked like. For it to be that bad—so bad, Waylon didn’t think twice before shoving his fingers down his best friend’s throat.
“Do you think he…” I sigh, adjusting my grip on Mason. I twist the back of his soaked shirt in my hand. His arm drapes heavily around my neck, hanging lifelessly over my shoulder. His feet drag, shuffling over the floorboards. “Does he need a hospital?” I finally manage to force out.
There’s a long pause, then, “No. No, he threw most of it up, I think?” Waylon says it like a question. Then, unnecessarily he adds, “He wasn’t trying to kill himself.”
I still.
“Maybe someone should keep an eye on him tonight,” Ivy whispers quickly from behind us, also unnecessarily.
“I’ve got him,” I mutter, staring straight ahead to where the lights and noises from downstairs wait for us.
A beat passes, then Waylon says awkwardly. “You sure?”
I shrug, though with Mason slumped between us, barely holding himself up, Waylon can’t see me. “It’s fine.”
