Page 6 of Hate Wrecked

I don’t mind. I need the distraction, so I angle my body toward him, and the manuscript is out of sight. I pretend, for a moment, that it doesn’t exist.

The man next to me motions for the bartender. “I’ll have a scotch and one more drink for the lady here. Her mother was the star of manymanyof my dreams when I was a kid.”

My smile falters just slightly, and I offer a fake laugh. I hope he buys it. “Is that so? What was she doing in those dreams?”

“I don’t think her daughter wants to hear,” the man replies.

“Oh, well—” I raise an eyebrow, and he chuckles.

“Putnam,” he replies, offering his hand. Will I hook up with a guy with a name like Putnam, who jacked off to my mother, in a hotel bar?Yes.If it means the voices stop. If it means the reality of my life gets to bend for a moment.

“Oh, okay, Putnam. So they werethatkind of dream. I get it.” I humor him. A shiver moves through me, and when I start to feel the pills kick in, I angle my long legs toward Putnam, my hair falling over my shoulders.

He watches me, a smirk playing there. “What are you on the island for?”

“You’re telling me the woman of your dreams, my mother, was on set on this island a week ago, and you didn’t know?”

He laughs. “Yeah, okay, I knew. But she’s gone. What areyoudoing here?”

“Wondering if you hit on my mother in this same bar,” I reply, grabbing his arm.

Putnam shakes his head, leaning in. He places his hand on my thigh, and I shiver. Not in pleasure at his touch, but in a euphoria that the liquor and the pill provide as they begin to take hold of me. After so long being sober, after so long rebuilding, I’m a lightweight again. In fact, I feel light enough to float away.

But just as I go to speak again, to dig myself in deeper, I see Rowan at the entrance of the hotel bar. And I feel warm all over again—but for a different reason this time. And even the disgust in his eyes can’t bring me down.

VOLCANIC ERUPTION

ROWAN

It waseasy to pull Riley away from the man at the bar. We both knew she didn’t want to be there with him and was exercising her right to do whatever she wants whenever she wants, especially if it means avoiding reality. Seeing her like that pulled me back to the past. I needed that to remind myself to stay far away from her.

The walk back to her room was filled with petulant glances at each other and words unsaid. Or perhaps, words mumbled and slurred by her that I couldn’t understand.

Now, I’m exactly where I don’t want to be—in her hotel room while she wretches in the bathroom due to whatever fucking drug she mixed with her drinks. She raced there as soon as we stepped foot into her room. It wasn’t long before the puking started.

Steeling myself, I open the bathroom door and see her there, in all her disarray. She looks so much like her mother. It frightens me, and for a moment, I’m frozen. I don’t spring into action, and though the moment is likely less than a second, it feels as if it stretches on. Finally, Riley looks at me, holding my gaze for a brief moment before she falls forward.

I catch her, gritting my teeth. “What the fuck did you take?” I hate my tone, but I’m so mad at her—mad at her warring and petulance and hatred toward her mother. I wipe the sweat from her brow, and her eyes glaze over. “What did you take? Please, Riley, tell me what it was!” I pull her body close to mine and open her mouth, looking in. “What kind of pills? Riley, I need you to talk to me right now.”

She mumbles, her limp wrist raising just a little. I follow the line her finger makes in the air and see the bottle of pills spilling from her purse. “We need to get you to the hospital. You hear me?” I pull her up, her weight dead and heavy. But this is what I was built for, what I trained for. She isn’t staying on this fucking bathroom floor.

“No,” she mumbles, and I roll my eyes, though she can’t see it.

“I don’t care what you want, do you hear me? You’re going to the hospital.” She thrashes, and I close my eyes.

Her voice is close to my ear when she speaks again, and she’s clearer. “Let me puke, just let me puke, and I’ll be better.”

A lie. She may feel better physically, but she won’tbebetter. It’s been a slow-moving train on the track toward self-destruction. That’s why I was somewhat content that she and her mother are estranged. With them not speaking, I didn’t have to witness her stumble and wander down the same path.

Her mom is finally better and stronger, thank fucking God. But Riley hasn’t been able to see it; she’s been too stubborn to offer forgiveness. So now she’s repeating the same mistakes.

Riley shifts in my arms again, attempting to fall to the ground.

“Fine,” I groan, letting her down. She crawls to the toilet and stares into the water, gagging.

I lean back, my hand resting on her back.

I’ve desperately wanted to touch her again—ever since she stepped off that plane. But not like this. Not to pull her from the depths of herself. She wretches, and I rub her back, angry and grateful and ready to leave this fucking island. I’m ready to take her to the airport, to complete the job. Life is empty, but easier without her in it. I can pretend I was never a young man falling for a forbidden mess of a girl, risking my job and my heart every moment she smiled at me.

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