Kass: I just want you to know that I get your reaction. I would do the exact same thing, and I promise I won’t blow up your phone anymore. I’ll drop your hoodie at Alex’s sometime this week.
Then I shut off my phone.
“Kass, wake up.”
It’s the middle of the night when someone shakes me out of slumber. In a daze, I groan, barely peeling my eyes open and blinking my senses back to life.
“Wait. Alex, slow down.”
Morgan.
She’s talking to Alex?
The memories come rushing back, knocking me awake and alert—right, I’m spending the night at Morgan’s place. The room is pitch-black. I can barely discern my half-asleep best friend sitting on the edge of her bed, phone pressed to her ear. I check the clock on her desk. 2:06 a.m., the red digits display. We went to bed at midnight. No wonder I feel weary.
“What’s going on?” I ask, rubbing my eyes.
Morgan puts the call on speaker, and instantly, Alex’s deep, panicked voice rings through the darkness.
“Is Kass with you?”
What the…
“Yeah, she’s here. Why?” Morgan is cold as ice.
Still having trouble in paradise, I see.
It’s a trend these days.
“I’ve tried calling her a million fucking times. I need to talk to her.”
His cursing takes me aback. Alex’s not one to drop the f bomb for no reason. Something must be seriously wrong.
“She turned her phone off. We were having a girls’ night. Why do you need to talk to her?”
“It’s Will.”
Fear slams into me.
“He… he told me he felt like she understood him once. That they were friends. I need her help. Might be a long shot, but maybe she can talk him out of it.”
“Talk him out of what?” I cut in.
“We’re at some bar downtown. Lucifer’s Den. Will’s a fucking wreck. He’s been getting into fights, starting shit with everyone with a heartbeat. The owners are threatening to call the cops on him, but he won’t leave. I don’t know what to do.”
“What’s gotten into him?” Morgan panics.
“No clue. He won’t talk to me. He’s been acting weird as shit all week. Please tell me she can help.”
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“I’m on my way.”
I’m bursting through the doors to Lucifer’s Den twenty minutes later. The bar is gloomy, illuminated by red neon lights, hence its name. It really does feel like we’re entering the devil’s den. The second Alex hung up, I jumped out of bed, changed out of my pajamas into sweatpants and a T-shirt, and bolted into Morgan’s car. Luckily, there weren’t any bouncers at the door.
I spot Alex arguing with someone by the coat check. The manager most likely.
“Alex!” I wave, and his shoulders drop in relief.
He crosses the distance between us in one stride, then stops, analyzing his surroundings. “Morgan didn’t come with?”
Wait, was that disappointment in his voice? I see. He was hoping this would give him an excuse to see her.
“No. She stayed back.”
He snaps out of it. “Okay. Will’s at the bar. You have five minutes tops before they call the cops.”
I turn away.
“Kass, wait.” Alex grabs my arm. “He broke a bottle. There’s glass everywhere. Watch your step.”
This is worse than I thought.
I nod, diving deeper into the crowd and seeking Will’s built frame at every corner. Then I see him. Hunched over the bar, gesturing to the bartender, who seems hell-bent on ignoring him.
“What kind of bullshit business is this?” I hear Will spit as I close in on him. “Now we can’t get another drink at a fucking bar?” The ironic part is, he’s got a half-full beer in front of him.
“Nah, it’s just you who can’t get a drink, mate. Take a hint,” the bartender retorts with a thick British accent as he attends to other customers, all of whom are throwing Will nasty glances.
Not having it, Will rises from his stool, ready to flip the guy off, but my hand flies to his shoulder before he can open his mouth. Surprised, he turns around—okay, more like staggers—completely wasted. I can’t possibly translate his features when he frowns, taking me in.
I expect him to be angry.
Sad.
So, you can imagine my surprise when he starts laughing.
“Wow, either I’m really drunk…” He sticks a finger in my face. “Or you look exactly like my girlfriend.”
My pulse gives a jolt at his choice of words. Girlfriend, huh? Does that mean we’re still together?
“Oh, wait, you are my girlfriend.” He snorts.
“Will, come on, we need to go.” I move closer, grasping his arm. “They’re going to call the cops on you.”
Why doesn’t this place have freaking bouncers?
He shakes me off him, irritated.
“What are you doing here, control freak?”
The nickname stings me skin-deep. This is the first time he’s called me that with a negative undertone.
“Stopping you from landing a criminal record, that’s what.”
“Why? I thought you were done with me,” he hisses.
I pause.
“What are you talking about?”
“Isn’t that what your message said? That you wouldn’t text me anymore? That you were going to…” He makes quotation marks with his fingers. “Drop my shit at Alex’s?”
Fuck.
Is that why he’s acting out?
My text?
“Whatever, I’m over you. You can go now.” He shows me the door, taking a swaying step forward and nearly tripping.
I hold him up. “Look at you. You can barely walk. Let me take you home.”
“Can’t. Don’t have one. But you know what I do have?” He stares me dead in the eyes. “A junkie mother who likes to OD in motel bathrooms.”
It feels like he just wrenched a knife into my chest.
“Shit, that’s right, you knew that already.” He heaves a bitter laugh. “My bad. I’ll be more careful next time you follow me against my will.”
I can’t get into this with him right now.
“You’re coming with me.” I tug on his arm.
He won’t budge. “Like hell I am.”
In one last, desperate attempt to save his ass, I cup his face, forcing our eyes to meet. “Look at me. If you stay here, you’re going to get arrested, do you get that?”
They could charge him with underage drinking, disorderly intoxication, disorderly conduct. The list goes on and on.
“Will, I’m begging you.”
He clenches his jaw, maintaining the eye contact, debating between options for a few seconds. Then he says the single most beautiful word I’ve heard all night.
“Fine.”
“One last step,” I caution, using the little strength I have left to help Will up the stairs. The guy is far from a lightweight. As soon as we got to Morgan’s house, I knew I needed to put him to bed. He was talking nonsense the entire ride home, rambling on about how he didn’t need my help. Or anyone’s help. That he never did before.