Page 97 of Habits

Brook is too concentrated on figuring out Jeanette to see it, but I do. The little color she had in her cheeks drained out completely, leaving her skin unnaturally white. Her irises grow wide, and a faint layer of sweat covers her skin as her hands dart to cover her mouth.

“Turn her over!” I warn, hurrying to help Max set Jeanette on her own two feet and push her out the door.

Thank God we’re close, and I get her out of the house just in time for her to reach the first pot and throw up the contents of her stomach.

My hand slides up and down her back in a soothing motion as I help her pull back her hair so it doesn’t get in her face.

Jeanette heaves over the pot for a while after she emptied her stomach, and I wait it out next to her, my hand not stopping for a second.

My brain is yelling at me to stop, take a step back and leave her alone, let Max handle it. She needs somebody who cares about her, somebody who loves her. Not me.

You love her, you fool.

I shake my head in protest.

I don’t. I can’t. I’m not capable of loving anybody.

My brain tells me to run, but my body … my body doesn’t listen.

“There, it’ll be okay,” I murmur softly, only for her to hear. “Everything will be okay.”

It’s like it has a will of its own, and it doesn’t want to leave her side.

Finally, she straightens, the back of her hand brushing against her lips, her face twisted in a grimace.

“Are you feeling better?”

Slowly, her eyes lift to meet mine, and although they’re still glossy from all the alcohol, there is some clarity in them. Recognition.

Jeanette pulls away abruptly, almost missing a step and falling down, but even that doesn’t stop her from glaring at me. “Don’t touch me,” she snarls, her finger lifted in the air in warning.

“What the hell?” I try to reach out to help stabilize her, but she pulls back again.

Her harsh words are like a slap to my face.

“I said, don’t touch me.”

I turn around looking for some kind of explanation, but all I find is an angry and disappointed Brook and a suspicious Max.

“Take me home?” Jeanette’s voice is a soft whisper, and she looks small. So small and breakable.

Max nods his head in agreement, and as he walks around me, his eyes never leave mine. Once he’s by her side, he wraps his arm around her.

“Let’s go home.”

“Brook?” Jeanette looks over her shoulder.

“Let me just …” She goes through her bag I didn’t even see her carrying and lifts her phone in the air.

“We’ll be in the car.”

Brook types something as I watch the two of them walking down the stairs and away from me. Max turns around once more to give me a warning glare over his shoulder.

He’ll get to the bottom of it, and when he does, somebody will pay the price.

That somebody being me.

“Well, you screwed this up royally.”

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