Page 118 of Stepbrothers with Benefits
“Milo,” I pleaded because I could see his face was splotchy from the color rising in his cheeks that had otherwise drained of color, and sweat was starting to bead on his forehead.
He reached up to grip his face, which made me wince. “It’s?—”
I didn’t realize why he stopped until he pulled out his phone, and I saw it was lit up with a call. My stomach twisted when I saw Raf’s face and name on the call screen, and I could practically hear Milo’s heart trying to scream its way out of his chest. Before I could even think of what to say, to make that even remotely better, I winced when I heard my phone ring. Pulling it out, I saw Moira’s name and face on my screen...and Moira almostnevercalled me. The last time had been to tell me Kayden was in the hospital, injured on the job.
“Fuck,” Milo said in a voice that was full of rage and equal amounts of despair. “No, no, no.”
“Milo,” I breathed, trying to control my panic before muting Moira's call. Once it ended, I silenced my phone so I didn’t have to flinch whenever the thing went off. “We just need to take a moment and not lose?—”
“Too late!” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m already losing my mind! It’s so lost that it’s probably three states over, and if it’s smart, it’s going to keep going. I just...I’m sorry, Eli, but I fuckingcan’t.”
I opened my mouth to repeat his name, but he had already whirled around and was practically sprinting down the hallway. My heart sank when I heard thumps from his room, most likely his closet if I were a betting man.
“What is he doing?” Eva asked in a soft voice.
“Packing,” I answered in a faint voice.
“To gowhere?”
“Anywhere but here.”
“And you’re not going to stop him?”
What could I say to that? About as much as I could do, knowing Milo was getting ready to flee to who knew where. My head was packed with screaming masses of panicked and despairing thoughts. What could I say to Milo that would get him to break out of his meltdown when I couldn’t find one issue with what he was saying? We were supposed to have time to deal with it, to be able to sit down and sort through things and figure out what was going to happen next.
Instead, that choice had been made for us, and I could only mutely watch him come down the hall with a large bag thrown over his shoulder, his face twisted into a mix of terror and trying to keep himself from screaming his feelings. He barely looked at Eva as he passed, but only looked at me when he reached the door and began pulling on his shoes. He stared at me for several heartbeats, and I could see him struggling to find something,anythingat all to say. I wasn’t surprised or upset when all he managed was a whispered “I’m sorry” before he thumped out of the apartment.
It wasn’t like I had anything I could say either.
MILO
“Don’t do it,” I told myself, staring at the TV and watching as the action sequence involving some actress in a leather outfit against a lot of bad guys went down on the screen. I hadn’t been keeping up with the plot, but I didn’t think there was a lot to keep up on. It wasn’t cheesy. It was just mindless enough I didn’t have to think, but it had done pretty well at being flashy enough to keep my attention on it rather than my own thoughts...mostly.
I still felt my eyes drifting to the bedside table where my phone sat. Since leaving Eli and our shared apartment three days ago, I had turned my phone off and refused to deal with it. I was sure there were messages from people, not just the ones giving me hell for what everyone had learned about Eli and me, of which there were bound to be thousands, but also from people concerned because I had dropped off the face of the planet.
Looking around, I grimaced. I technically had the money to get better accommodations, but how long would that nest egg last? Sure, it was several thousand, but that kind of money could disappear fast, especially when day-to-day costs added up quickly. I could pretty much count on having no more income from the social media accounts, and a ‘real’ job wasn’t on thehorizon yet. Until Eli and I found jobs thatmightbe able to keep up with our bills, I wasn’t going to burn through my savings.
I wasn’t sure if having the shelf under the TV littered with cans and bottles looked trashy. I had been medicating myself for the past three days, or maybe it looked right at home in the room, which was a step above what you’d expect to find with bugs in the carpet or questionable stains on the bedding. However, it wasn’t a huge step. There was a mildew smell that lingered no matter how long I stayed in the room, and a water stain on the ceiling that made me glad the motel only had one floor; otherwise, I might be worried about what could come crashing through the ceiling.
And the less said about the decor and bedding that would have been ugly in the seventies, the better.
But it was at the edge of town, far from where I would be easily recognized by people who were used to seeing me; it was quiet save for the couple next door who liked to get into loud arguments at four in the morning. Not that that was a problem, I was either still awake at that time or so dead to the world from all the alcohol in my bloodstream that I wouldn’t notice. Plus, the place was cheap, the front desk worker hadn’t blinked at my name and face, and everyone seemed more than happy to mind their own business.
In short, it was the perfect place for what had originally been meant for me to get my shit together. It hadn’t taken long for it to become the place where I lay around in drunken misery, mourning everything in my life that was pretty much dead and gone. I knew I would have to emerge from my den of misery at some point, but that time was nowhere near.
Not that it helped when I entertained the idea, only to realize what that would entail. There were scores of people that would have to be dealt with, which didn’t include people online. I had no idea what my family had to say about the whole thing, andeven trying to contact one of them to get a gauge of how the rest of them were feeling filled me with such a sense of overwhelming dread that I couldn’t bring myself to reach for my phone in an attempt to turn it back on.
And I knew Eli was out there, desperate to know I was okay. I’d sent him a message through my laptop to tell him I was alive, had settled in somewhere to try to breathe, and was turning everything off so I didn’t have to see messages from anyone. I still fought with myself on that one because he had to be just as lost and adrift as I was, but that was even more reason to keep my dramatic ass as far from him as possible.
Plus, if I had read the room right before I’d left, he still had Eva to help him. I might have always felt awkward around the woman because of my jealousy for what she could get out of Eli that I couldn’t, but that was dead and buried. She might have been pissed that Eli had kept the relationship a secret from her, but she didn’t seem like she was pissed enough to leave him alone.
I, however, only had Eli, and I wasn’t going to dump my shit on him. Was it hypocritical to think that after what we’d argued over before our worlds had been thrown on their heads? Probably. Was it a different situation in terms of scope and impact? Absolutely. Did that mean it changed whether I was justified in staying isolated, so I didn’t overwhelm him when he was probably struggling to stay afloat? No idea, but it certainly felt that way.
“Donot,” I growled as I found myself staring at my phone again. I don’t know why I kept the damn thing in sight when all it did was tempt me; it was why I’d tucked my laptop away so I wouldn’t be tempted to read what people were saying, or check in with Eli. Checking in with him would mean inevitably getting talked into returning to the apartment, which I couldn’t do to him. I was still a mess and could do nothing about it.
I grabbed one of the bottles that still had alcohol in it from the bedside table and took a drink. I had made sure to eat today before starting my rounds of medicine, so that meant I could pace myself better with the drinking. The last thing I needed was another night drinking on an empty stomach and waking up the next day with a vague memory of having had the bright idea to walk to the nearby bar for a few beers. I still didn’t remember what had happened, but I’d woken up with an achy, bloody hand, a black eye and split lip, and a bruise on my cheek that was an ugly, mottled blue and purple.
Nope, all that was left for me to do today was watch bad movies, drink away the roar in my head, and see if I could scrounge up something that might resemble peace and quiet.
