Page 15 of The Second Deal

I’dprobably get away with it, too, because a sad drunk brain is a desperate one.

Ormaybe he’d push me away, ask what the fuck is wrong with me, and tell me to go home.Tostay away.

Evenworse, he’s probably tried to drink the memory of seeing me away so he wouldn’t remember anythingIsay or do, anyway.

It’sso slight, but the coolness ofZak’slip piercings tingle on my forehead.

Myskin literally peels whenIforce myself to tear away.

Ican’t do that to him.Nomatter how muchIwant him to forgive me,Idon’t deserve it.

Ipush the door a little too hard and it bangs against the wall like a gunshot.

AshirtlessAdrianjumps up from the leather sectional in the great room just ahead.Anobnoxious vape cloud swirls around that he waves off with a book. “Thefuck?”

Ikick the door shut behind us and start leadingZakto the right, towards the hallway where his bedroom is. “Littlehelp would be nice!”

Adriantosses the book aside. “Yeah, yeah.Igot him,” he responds, grabbingZak’sarm to throw over his shoulders.

Buthe doesn’t take him down the hallway to the right—he leadsZakto the left, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway that leads towards what used to beKris’s,Shannon’s, and their daughter’s rooms.Beforethat, it was their parents’ side of the house.

Ihang back between the foyer and great room, watching the twins until they disappear.It’sbad enoughI’mhere in their house—Ireally don’t want to follow to make sureZakgets into bed okay.

DreamTheaterblaring through the sound system scrambles my thoughts.Ipeek over the back of the couch, finding the remote besideAdrian’sbook.

He’sreadTheHellboundHeartso many times thatIstopped counting.WhenIflip the cover open, dates line the inside in different colored inks, sometimes smudged pencil.Irecognize some as tour dates.

Isnort, tossing the book and remote back onto the couch after turning the music down. “Nerd.”

“Uh, sorry about that.”

Ijump, staring wide eyed atAdrianapproaching from the hallway.

“Ithought he hitched a ride withShannon.”

“Yeah,”Irespond. “SodidI.”

Neitherof us say another word, studying each other in this house so familiar, yet foreign.

Adrian’sgaze makes me want to scratch and peel until my fingers are bloody and my skin flakes off—anything to make him stop staring at me the way he is right now, like he’s absorbing as much of my presence as he can beforeIdisappear into thin air.

“I’llget out of your hair.”

“Hey, no,” he says, stepping in my way. “Stay‘n’ hang out for a bit.”

Ireally shouldn’t.

Butthe longer my stare lingers onAdrian, the more pronounced his lopsided smile becomes and the more my flesh crackles beneath my skin.

Henods towards the great room. “Havea seat.I’llgrab some beer.”

Adrianheads for the kitchen, andIglimpse at the door arguing with me to get the hell out.

ButAdrianreappears with a couple of beers and hands me one. “Thanksfor pickin’ him up.Bethe woulda woken up withWestNilein the morning if you didn’t.”

Itake a reluctant swig before nodding. “Yeah, probably.”

Hethrows an arm around my shoulders, probably as insurance against me running away, and leads me past a couple of guitars in stands along the wall.Hesnags his vape rig from the coffee table before settling into the leather couch beside me.

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