Page 94 of Love so Hot

"Fucking kombucha?" I groan, staring at the offending beverage. "Seriously, Willow?"

Everything in this damn fridge screams her name. Organic veggies, almond milk, some weird fermented stuff I can't even pronounce. It's like a hipster health food store threw up in here.

"This is what I get for falling in love with a tree-hugger," I grumble, shoving aside kale and quinoa.

My traitorous brain tries to linger on the words "in love" and that's when I renew my search for alcohol with increased vigor.

Finally, my fingers brush against smooth glass. Bingo. I pull out the vodka from the bottom shelf.

"Hello, beautiful. Where have you been all my life?"

I unscrew the cap and take a long swig, relishing the burn as it slides down my throat. It's cheap and nasty, but right now it's exactly what I need.

"Bottoms up," I toast to the empty kitchen, then proceed to chug like a frat boy at his first kegger.

The room starts to spin, and I find myself sliding down to the cool tile floor. My phone buzzes in my pocket, an insistent reminder of the outside world I'm trying to forget.

I fish it out, squinting at the too-bright screen. The names and icons blur together in a kaleidoscope of color.

"Fuck it," I mutter, holding down the button. "Call Roman."

As the phone starts to ring, I take another swig of vodka. At least Roman will appreciate my commitment to getting absolutely shitfaced.

The line crackles to life, and Roman's voice filters through, tinny and distant. "Lawrence? What's up, man?"

"Roman, my dude," I slur, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. "It happened again. She's gone."

"Oh shit," he breathes, and I can practically see him running a hand through his hair, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay?"

I bark out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Peachy keen. Don't worry about me. I'm gonna be okay."

There's a pause, and I can feel the lie hanging heavy in the air between us. My throat tightens, and before I know it, I'm choking on the words.

"That's bullshit," I whisper, my voice cracking. "I'm not okay, Roman. I'm so fucking far from okay."

And just like that, the dam breaks. Tears start streaming down my face, hot and relentless. I'm crying like a baby, snot and all, right there on my kitchen floor with a bottle of vodka as my only company.

"Shit, Lawrence," Roman says, his voice soft. “I wish there was more I could do. I’m gonna try and find a way to come and see you. Just…try not to drink yourself into oblivion until then, no matter how good it feels.”

I laugh wetly, wiping my nose on my sleeve. "No promises, buddy. But don't worry about it, really. I'll be fine."

Even as I say it, I can feel consciousness slipping away, the vodka and emotional exhaustion taking their toll. The phone slides from my grip, clattering to the floor.

As the darkness claims me, I slip into a blissful dream where a girl with green hair hasn't just walked out of my life, leaving me alone with nothing but regrets and a bottle of cheap booze.

Chapter Forty-Four

Willow

I stepout of the Uber and onto the old gravel path leading into the Earth Defender's campsite, my boots crunching beneath me. It should feel like coming home, but the air's thick with something that makes my skin prickle—tension, raw and biting.

"Hey, Willow," someone mutters, not quite meeting my eye. I nod, trying to shove down the lump in my throat. This place, with its scent of pine and earth, used to be my sanctuary. Now, it feels like I'm wading through a swamp of silent judgment.

"Back so soon?" The question comes laced with ice, and I turn to see Marcy, her arms crossed, her gaze sharp as flint. I manage a half-smile, weak and unconvincing even to myself.

"Just need to clear things up," I say, but she's already turned away, her silence speaking volumes more than words ever could. I swallow hard, my resolve solidifying. I have to talk to River.

Eyes follow me as I walk, whispers fluttering in my wake like leaves in a storm. I know what they're thinking—traitor, liar, two-timer. It stings, sure, but I can't let it show. Not now.

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