Page 41 of BounBound By Scars

“I’m still going to be here, Seb. You’re not losing your booze police.”

That made him laugh—genuine this time—before he pulled me into a hug. Warm. Steady. No longer intimate, just comfort.

Maybe I’d finally stopped being stupid.

All that was left was talking to Kabir.

And trying to rebuild what I’d carelessly broken. Maybe even get some answers.

Maybe, just maybe… I hadn’t ruined everything.

ELEVEN

Kabir

Yep.

Same apartment.

Almost every night.

Probably in the same room.

Possibly the same fucking bed.

Perhaps Dylan could help me find some painless ways to die.

Because that’s what I wanted to do right now. I wanted to fucking—

“Zip it.”

I snapped out of my spiraling thoughts, looking over at Zane, who was nursing his whiskey and staring at me with what I could only describe as pure amusement.

“Hain?”

His head tilted slightly. “You’re speaking out loud, idiot.”

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face.

Fantastic. Now even my self-destructive monologues had an audience.

Zane just rolled his eyes and took another sip. No, gulp.

“What’syourdamage? Why areyoudrinking?” I asked.

He chuckled and ran a finger over his neck tattoo. “That’s why.”

I leaned over the lounge couch, probably too close for his comfort, because I could practically feel his breath near my neck. I squinted at the ink on his skin.

I slumped—no, collapsed—back into the couch.

“What does it mean? It’s just numbers.” I slurred.

“It’s a date, you moron. Today’s… but from four years ago.”

I nodded solemnly. “Oh. Who died?”

“No one.”

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