Page 178 of Bones
In a daze, I returned to the clinic alone since Mac needed to speak privately to Nemo about something. When I got back inside, I set both packs down on my bed and stared at them for a long moment. I did not have the strength to go through Trey's things, so I opened mine instead. Of course, the little wooden dandelion he'd made for me sat on top. I struggled to breathe through the pain in my chest as I took it out and set it aside, but the next thing wasn't much better.
It was his quilt.
I pulled it out, bundling it close to me and pressing my nose to the soft fabric. Tears rolled down my face. It still smelled like him. I clung to it, desperate to breathe him in, knowing the scent would soon fade and then the last little piece of Trey left in the world would be gone.
I curled up on my mattress, my arms wrapped around the quilt, and sobbed until I couldn’t breathe.
* * *
Hours later, a soft knock sounded at the door and Mac poked his head in.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
I was scrubbing the floor, despite it being nearly midnight, trying to lose myself in mindless work. I shrugged and avoided eye contact, knowing my eyes were still red and swollen. Gods, I hoped he wasn’t staying long.
“You want a drink?”
I looked up, surprised. He had a dark expression on his face, but he held up a bottle of liquor.
“Sure.”
I put my cleaning supplies away while he poured us two glasses. When I came back over, he handed me one and then downed his drink in one shot. I watched him as I drank mine slower. It burned the whole way down and tasted like ass, but I didn't care. He poured himself a second glass and then leaned on the table, dropping his head down so I couldn't see his face.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Doesn’t it piss you off? he asked darkly without looking up.
“What?”
“Bein’ used like that? For somebody else’s cause?”
I paused, feeling a tiny flicker of rage come to life in my chest. “I’malwaysbein’ used for somebody else’s cause.”
He glanced up at that, his eyes stormy with rage and pain and guilt. He downed his second drink, setting it on the table with a hard thud. “Fuck,” he said again.
I tipped my drink back, downing the rest of it like he had. I had a feeling I would need it.
“I did that,” Mac said. “I used you for my own cause by bringin’ you here.” He brought a hand up and rubbed his eyes hard. “I’m so sorry, Bones.”
I tried to feelsomething, but even the anger had been snuffed out by the crushing numbness.
“You already apologized,” I said, pouring myself a second drink.
“When?” He dropped his hand down, staring at me with an intensity I wasn’t drunk enough to handle.
I shot back my second drink. “When you were sick.”
He looked wary. “I apologized to you?” When I nodded, he frowned. “I don’t remember doin’ that.”
“You had a real high fever.” I shrugged.
“Did I say anythin’ else?” he asked.
I thought back to that moment, grateful to the alcohol for making this easier. “You apologized and said you couldn’t let Trey d-die.” My voice shook. “I told you I knew you didn’t have a choice. You asked if I hated you, and I told you I didn’t.”
He stared at me for a moment longer, that muscle in his jaw jumping, then poured himself a third drink and downed it. “Was that it?”
