Page 101 of Your Biggest Downfall
She kissed me on the cheek. “It’s fine. We’re sisters. It’s what sisters do.” She pulled back with a shrug. “Besides, your man’s been covering all the rent, so I can’t stay mad at you for too long.”
She winked, and my jaw dropped. How? Why? He’d promised to cover my portion of the rent but not the entirety of it.
I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts aside. My focus needed to be on him.
I swallowed hard as I stepped out of the car. Luna gave me a wave before heading off, and I braced myself as I walked toward the apartment. She’d given me the front access code and the apartment number, making it easy to find, but my nerves were still rattling.
As the elevator hummed to life, taking me up to the second floor, my thoughts spun wildly, refusing to settle. The clean, modern walls of the apartment building, all glass and steel, felt sterile, similar to where Austin lived.
Where I lived.
That thought was like a punch to the gut. Would I even be able to take him back after this? Could I? The uncertainty clawed at me, making my stomach churn. Every fiber of me wanted to believe this was all a misunderstanding, a mistake, but the doubt lingered, festering at the back of my mind.
The elevatordinged, breaking the silence, and I stepped out onto the second floor. Tension banded around my chest as I approached Jeremy’s door. I raised my hand, hesitating for a second. But then I brought my knuckles to the wood, knocking once, the sound echoing down the desolate hallway.
It wasn’t long before the door swung open. Jeremey looked disheveled and half asleep. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were barely open, like he’d just woken up. Clearly, Luna hadn’t told him I was coming.
“You’re not Luna?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, blinking at me like he was trying to piece together why I was standing at his door.
I didn’t have time for his confusion.
Without waiting for a proper invite, I pushed past him. “Where is he?” I demanded.
Jeremy barely had time to respond before I saw him. Austin was sprawled out on the couch, passed out. My heart stopped. I scanned the room, and my panic eased.
There were no beer bottles or liquor containers scattered around, no signs of a drunken mess, nothing like I had feared. The apartment was spotless—almost too spotless, really.
The guilt hit me hard. I’d worked myself into a frenzy, imagining the worst, but here he was. Safe. Unharmed. Just asleep.
I walked over to the couch, my footsteps feeling heavier than they should have been, and gently shook him. His eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, he seemed confused, his eyes blinking rapidly as he came to.
When his gaze finally focused on me, recognition dawned, and his eyes went wide. “Oh, shit, Nova,” he muttered, quickly sitting up, rubbing his face as if he could erase the exhaustion that clung to him. His voice was thick with guilt, like he already knew what I was thinking.
He wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t in danger. He was just... here, in this spotless apartment, asleep on the couch. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of everything simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.
Why did I feel like everything was about to fall apart, even though nothing looked wrong?
I sat on the edge of the couch, the adrenaline still running through me, and stared at him, trying to gather my thoughts.
“Why are you here?” I asked, my voice softer now since the anger and panic drained away, leaving only exhaustion behind. “You didn’t text me or call. I’ve been worried sick.” I scooted toward him and dropped to my knees so we were face-to-face. Noting a peculiar smell, I leaned in and sniffed. “And why do you smell like a mouthwash commercial?”
“Nova,” he repeated and shot up from the couch. I noticed the way his hand touched his temples momentarily, the way his eyelids were heavy, and the slight tremor in his hands. “I am sosorry. I passed out at Jeremy’s house. I forgot to text you. I was exhausted from practice.”
It was so . . . rehearsed.
I looked back at Jeremy. “You’re a bad influence. You were drinking around him? He’s supposed to be sober.”
Jeremy shrugged. “He didn’t do anything his wife wouldn’t approve of.”
I stood up, hands on my hips, and walked toward him. “What I wouldn’t approve of?” I spat. “You’re his supposed best friend. He’s fucking sober. This isn’t a nagging wife problem, this is something that is fucking serious, and you sitting here like it’s a joke?—”
“Nova, baby.” Austin was behind me, and he wrapped his hands around me.
There was that fucking smell again. “You stink.”
He chuckled. “I’ll take a shower.”
“I’m so fucking mad at you. You had me thinking you were dead in a ditch!”
