Page 12 of I Knead You Tonight

The other driver walked away with minimal damage physically, but not financially.

When her toxicology report came back, we found out she was drunk off her ass…something my lawyer didn’t let slide by without a big stink, especially considering she was the mayor’s daughter.

I took the insanely large settlement they offered and bought this house in cash, setting me up for a long time to come. Then I went about my life like I didn’t see the accident on replay every time I closed my eyes.

The joke was on me though.

I blew off too many doctors, too much physical therapy, and now I’ve left my body beyond repair.

The light sound of music drifts from my bedroom and I can’t quite make out what it is. Probably a kiddie lullaby or some shit.

I turn to my side, hiding my face from the light coming through around the door. The second I turn, I feel it.

The aching that won’t go away.

The one that hurts so bad I can’t sleep at night…unless I smoke until I can’t see straight.

I’m aware of the fact that this constant pain is partly my own doing.

After my accident, everyone looked at me like I was this broken, fragile thing. I couldn’t handle it. Every day I was still strapped into that sling or being whisked off to physical therapy, it was another day they were staring at me like I was shattered. I couldn’t fucking stand it. The moment I declared I was healed, they all started treating me differently.

I learned pretty fast I was free from the looks, but not from the pain.

It didn’t matter though. I found my cure.

It didn’t matter how many ibuprofens I downed; they didn’t touch the throbbing…or the storm that seemed to constantly be brewing inside me. The only thing that chased it all away was weed.

If I’m not high, I’m just…done. Empty. The only thing I feel anymore is pain, and the only thing that makes me not feel the pain is pot.

I smoke so I can feel alive again and not like I’m going to explode if I move the wrong way.

Sure, it pisses me off that the people I love most only see me as this stoner who’s always blowing everyone off, but I can’t give it up.

It’s the only thing that works.

With an irritated growl, I push myself up off the couch, trying to ignore the stabbing pain that’s traveling through my body. I grab my box and my lighter, heading outside so I can smoke in peace.

Stepping onto the patio, I pop open my metal tin and pull out a joint. I slide the sweet relief between my lips and flick the lighter, watching the end glow red as I inhale.

I puff a few times, getting the joint glowing like I like. When it’s lit enough, I close my eyes, finally taking a long toke and holding it in my lungs as long as possible.

Just like that, the pain isn’t so bad. My mind isn’t racing in circles.

When I open my eyes again, Drew’s stepping through my cloud of smoke.

She stops a foot away from me, arms crossed over her chest, tits pushed up. “I’m sorry if the music was too loud. I can turn it down.”

I ignore her and take another long hit, chasing the quiet I crave.

“Look, if we’re an inconvenience, we can leave. We’ve been surviving just fine without you. We’ll make do.”

“Not everything is about you, Drew.”

“Well, excuse me for assuming so, especially since you’re out here in this freezing weather.”

“It’s not even cold.”

“It’s fifty, and you live on the beach. It’sfreezing.”

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