Page 40 of No Rhyme or Riesling
Haven hugged him back, then pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes. “Are you sure? I feel like I'd be abandoning you–”
It took everything in Adam to fight the urge to wince at those words. His heart was beating too fast, feeling the panic of isolation already setting in even though Haven was still there.
Because Haven was right. A part of Adam did feel like he was being abandoned again. But a much louder, stronger voice in his head was practically screaming at him to let Haven go. To put Haven's needs first. Because, otherwise, something bad would happen to Haven—Adam just knew it—and there was no way he could live with that.
“Go,” Adam insisted, fighting to keep a smile on his face. He truly was happy for his friend even though he felt something shatter inside him. “You deserve this. You guys are so fucking adorable together and you both deserve to be happy.”
Haven studied his eyes for a moment, then that beaming smile slowly came back. “Okay.” He let out a squeak of joy, covered his mouth with both hands like he was trying to contain himself, then threw his arms around Adam. “Thank you. And we'll still totally hang out and see each other all the time.”
Adam nodded, resisting the urge to squeeze Haven tighter in desperation.
“Hey!” Haven gasped, holding Adam at arm's length. “Maybe your friend can move down here. I heard you saying something about having him move to Paso and start over. Now you can offer him my room.”
Adam's eyebrows went up. “Sky?”Huh. Now there was an idea. Except that Skylar had been adamant about finishing out his time in San Francisco until he had enough money for surgery. Having Skylar move to their small, middle-of-nowhere town wouldn't help the boy reach his goals. Still, Adam gave Haven a nod. “Yeah. I'll tell him and see what he says.”
Haven beamed again. “I'm gonna go call Theo.” He gave Adam another quick hug, then hurried off to his bedroom.
Adam slumped back against the counter.Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.This could not have come at a worse time. The dreaded anniversary was right around the corner, and having Haven move out would mean being alone with his memories. He wanted to tell Haven to wait. To not leave at all.
But he couldn't do that. The guilt of even thinking it made his stomach turn.
It was all Adam could do to wait until Haven went to bed before he dug out the bottle and had another drink.
And another.
And another.
When his alarm went off the next morning, the sound of it stabbed right through his skull.
“Holy fuck,” he muttered, reaching out blindly to try grabbing his phone. He peeled his eyes open, staring blearily at the screen as he jabbed at the button to stop the alarm. It finally went blessedly silent. Adam dropped the phone on the nightstand with a sigh. He was about to turn over, wanting nothing more than to hide in his bed all day long, when he spotted the bottle resting beside his phone. “Shit!”
Adam threw back the covers and lurched upright, then stopped and held his head with both hands.Oh, fuck. His temples pounded and his entire body felt wrung dry. But he had to hide that bottle. Adam forced his eyes open and reached out. He grabbed the bottle, then had to hunt for the cap, which had rolled just under his bed. Adam spun it into place and slogged over to his closet so he could tuck the bottle out of sight.
He shuffled into his bathroom to brush his teeth, concentrating on his stomach all the while. Adam felt no urge to throw up, but he almost wished he would. He considered trying to make himself vomit, except there was probably nothing in his stomach to bring up, anyway.
Once he chased away the nasty, dry feeling in his mouth, Adam dragged himself out to the kitchen, where he found a pot of coffee waiting for him.Damn it. Haven had done it again.
Adam poured himself a cup, too tired to even bother with cream and sugar, and shuffled over to the dining table, slumping heavily into a chair. He took a sip and almost gagged. Black coffee—especially this cheap, store-brand stuff that they bought in deference to Haven's frugality—was just plain nasty. Maybe he was spoiled from working in a coffee shop for so many years. Still, it slowly but surely began to work its magic, giving him the first hints of relief from the pain.
He finished the coffee and went back for a second cup, taking the time to doctor that one before he trudged back to the table and resumed his seat. Adam decided that would do for breakfast, forgoing any food in case it didn't stay down. When his second cup was empty, Adam left the mug in the sink and shuffled back to his bedroom to get ready for work.
It was all he could do to move about quietly, not wanting to wake Haven. The boy didn't need to go in to work for several more hours, so there was no need for him to be up this early. Adam got himself dressed, fixed his hair, and brushed his teeth once more. He avoided his reflection as he left his bathroom, then cringed at the sight of his bedroom. His bed was unmade, looking far too tempting even with the mess of clothing he'd left scattered across it during his hunt for something clean to wear. Adam scanned the room through squinted eyes, making sure he hadn't left a bottle out in plain sight.
He crept out of his room, snagged a water bottle from the refrigerator, and took a healthy gulp before hunting around for his keys and heading outside. Adam was halfway to work when he realized he'd forgotten to pack himself a lunch.Fuck me. Surprise, surprise. At least there were plenty of restaurants nearby. He could always walk over and buy something.
Except when he patted his pockets, he realized he'd forgotten his wallet, too.
“Fuck!” Adam pulled into a parking spot and rested his head down on the steering wheel. It took everything he had to shut off the engine, drag himself from the car, and walk into the back of the shop so he could clock in.
Morgan breezed by him, clutching a stack of disposable cups, then lurched to a stop. “Shit. Hey. You okay?”
Adam tried for a smile, but he wasn't sure he managed it. “I'm fine.”
Morgan's brow furrowed. “Are you hungover?”
Adam winced.Shit. “No, just a headache,” he lied.
Morgan's frown deepened, but he quickly set the cups aside before he darted into the employee break room. He came back out with a mug of coffee—the shop's own house blend, which didn't need anything added to it, it was that good—and a bottle of pain medication. He handed both to Adam.
