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“I don’t care what you did,” Trent said, his voice low.
“Yes you do.”
“I said I don’t. You haven’t asked what I did either.”
Wood sighed heavily and his body swayed again, but Trent’s warm hands continued to brace him. “I already know what you didn’t do, Trent. You and Bishop… a tragic case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Several of your so-called friends robbed a convenience store and you two got caught-up in the middle. Guilt by association.” Wood scoffed. “Yeah. How do you sleep at night?”
“Wood,” Trent gritted out irritatingly.
“Let me ask you something,” Wood continued, no longer giving a damn what Trent thought of him. “You ever killed anyone?” Trent gasped and it brought a smirk to Wood’s face. “I didn’t think so.”
“Wood.”
“You keep saying my name.”
“Come inside.”
Wood pulled out the crumbled drawing of Mrs. Dulenaka that he’d had on him for so many years. He thankfully couldn’t see the sketch through his watery vision, couldn’t see the beauty in the flowers. “She was a mother… a nurse. A good person… and I killed her, Trent. I had a fight with Adam that night while we were at a bar with friends. Nothing new—we were always arguing about my long hours at the shop.” Wood sighed, remembering that night as if it was yesterday, though there wasn’t much to recall. “Adam was drunk. He was being an ass trying to get me to react. And I guess I did. He left, I went after him and snatched the keys and told him I’d drive, and when we got home, I wanted him the hell out of my condo.”
Trent was silent and Wood was glad he couldn’t see what he knew was there. Judgment.
“I wasn’t drunk, I swear. I’d had a couple beers, but I was just so damn angry that I must not… I wasn’t paying attention.” Wood shook his head miserably. “I took my eyes off the road for a second, and a damn animal… a possum, racoon, what-the-hell-ever, was all it took. I swerved to avoid a freakin’ rodent and instead killed a woman.” Wood flicked the lighter and touched the tip of the flame to the corner of the paper. “There. I said it. Now, do you still want me to come inside?”
Trent didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“You’re so naive, Trent. I’m giving you an easy way out here, and you’re too dumb to take it.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck me, Trent.” Wood started to laugh, but he cut it short when his stomach lurched violently. He held his breath as a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over him.
“Why don’t you come inside and find out… if you’re man enough?” Trent said, his voice not sounding as confident as his words.
“How cute,” Wood mumbled. “But maybe you should save that weak psychology on the poor unsuspecting females you bed. Real men don’t fall for bull like that.”
Trent’s hands suddenly disappeared, and within seconds, Wood was on his side on the cold ground, unable to keep himself upright. He never felt it when his shoulder or the side of his head connected with the cold dirt. It took him a minute, but he finally made it to a sitting position. God only knew how he looked. Wood dropped his chin to his chest and reached in his back pocket for the only other thing he kept on him at all times since he’d walked out of those prison gates.
Wood flipped the blue, plastic sobriety chip over in his palm. He ran his thumb along the engraved words “To thine own self be true” and squeezed his eyes closed. He’d been so close to that nine-month chip. Brody had already been talking about it… now he’d blown it. He’d told himself when he got out that the required AA program he had to do would be a piece of cake because he wasn’t an alcoholic. Wood glanced around him. He was the damn epitome of one, and now he’d literally sunk as low as he could go. He was at rock bottom. He’d heard addicts talk about it at meetings, but he’d never fully got it, until now. Wood held his closed fist over the flames in the metal bin.
“Wood, don’t,” he heard Trent say from so close behind him.
Wood dropped the chip in the fire. He had no need for it, and he sure as hell didn’t deserve it. “I’ll be in in a minute.” He breathed heavily, the goddamn misery refusing to stay away.
“I’ll just wait here with you.” It felt like Trent was squatting behind him, and Wood felt those sturdy hands return… and he wanted them off him. He didn’t deserve this touch either. Trent’s teeth chattered close to his ear, and he wanted to turn toward that warm skin and hot breath, but he refused. He wouldn’t mess up Trent’s life too. He was a good guy, and he deserved better.
