Page 22 of Ruled Out

I flick on a floor lamp in the open-plan space and wave Jessie inside. “I have one roommate, Tara, but she isn’t home, thank Christ.”

He looks around and smiles, pulling off his black beanie to reveal his sexy, tousled hair. “Nice place.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” I quirk a brow as he closes the front door behind him.

“No. Seriously, it’s … kinda cozy. Reminds me of when I was at college.”

Jessie wobbles as he takes off his shoes at the door and then looks at the bedrooms. “Which one is yours?”

I point to the one on the right. “That one. I’ll bring you some water or something, just make sure to take your shoes with you. Otherwise Tara will notice.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod my head and pull the fridge door open. “I have no idea what time Tara is due home, and trust me, she will recognize you. So, unless we want to stay up half the night, explaining why you’re here and definitely shouldn’t be, you should go ahead.”

A couple of seconds later, a lamp switches on, and I hear the springs on my bed squeak as he takes a seat.

“Do you want some Tylenol?” I ask, setting a glass down on my nightstand in front of me.

Jessie shakes his head. “No thanks.”

In the soft lighting of the room, I can tell his eyes are still glazed, but he’s more with it than when I first saw him outside.

I knew he was battling with his mental health when he played for the Destroyers, and I knew he went to therapy. Dad had mentioned Jessie had an idiot father and needed more support than the average kid, and all Jessie would tell me was that hischildhood was very different from mine. Back then, I was really young and didn’t know how to ask, but now, sitting on my desk chair in front of him, I want to know more. The reasons behind his actions.

Does he drink to forget? To numb the pain?

Silence stretches between us. Eventually, he leans forward and attempts to pick up the water, but his coordination is shaky, and he almost knocks the glass off the table.

“Does this make us friends now?” he asks with a lopsided grin.

“What? Me taking you in so you don’t freeze to death?”

His shoulders shake as he downs the water in one gulp.

“Can I ask you something?” I say cautiously, unable to stop myself from wanting to know more about his state of mind.

“Sure.”

“Why do you do it?” I nod at the glass, hoping he’ll get the meaning behind my vague question.

He looks at the empty glass in his left hand and then sets it back on the nightstand, blowing out a long breath. “Drink?”

I nod slowly as he looks at me for a brief second and then down at the floor.

“Because I have zero self-control.” He shrugs, looking around my room and then finally back at me. “And sometimes, it’s easier to be numb.”

“To pain?”

“Yeah. To memories. Invasive thoughts don’t have the same effect when I give less of a shit.” He looks me in the eye once more.

With alcohol in his system, I get the feeling he’s opening up to me more than he normally would. I got that same feeling back when I was younger.

What happened to him to make him feel this way?

Part of me feels guilty for wanting to push him further, but maybe this is my chance at getting answers as to why he’s always kept me at arm’s length. I remember my dad shouting at him, saying he was just like his father. I asked Dad over and over what he’d meant by that, but he refused point-blank to talk about Jessie. To even acknowledge his existence.

“Did your dad do something to you?” I whisper into the silent room.

---