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chapter thirty-two

“Sometimes, when I need good life advice, I watch Toy Story. Stay with me here, folks. There is nothing that you can’t defeat in life without the mantra, ‘Never give up, never surrender.’ I dare you to try to stay defeated with that little gem hanging around your head. You’re welcome.”

~From Max Emory’s Guide to Dating and Other Important Life Lessons

Jason

Forty-Eight Hours post-jail

I tipped back the lukewarm Corona and glanced at the flickering TV. Alone. Again. I deserved it.

A knock sounded at the door.

I ignored it and reached for another slice of cold, hard pizza. How long it had been sitting in my living room, I hadn’t a clue.

I’d lost track of a lot of things in the past week.

My truck door for one — my fault.

My heart — her fault.

My balls — the universe’s fault, not to mention an unfortunate run-in with lightning.

And finally, my ability to move on.

It was easy, the first time you moved on from a lost love. Life happened. Days came and went. You chalked it up to the fact that you’d been immature and stupid. Hell, you were probably eighteen. What did you even know at eighteen? I’d been a virgin until Maddy.

So honestly? Nothing. I hadn’t known a damn thing.

The second time, you missed that opportunity to love, and well, that was when things went to shit.

Exhibit A: The house. Takeout boxes littered every inch of space, beer bottles totem-poled the boxes, and something smelled.

I sniffed my armpit.

That something was me.

I glanced down the hallway. Too much effort in trying to get clean. What the hell is the point anyway? She was gone. Again. I was alone. Again.

And the really sick part?

Before she’d come stomping back into my life, I’d been completely okay with it! I’d finally settled into my job at the local police department. I had great friends, was remodeling my parents’ house, and I had the promise of a goat—

Don’t ask.

The point? Everything had been fine until Maddy Summers decided to screw me over, again!

The knocking got louder.

“Not home!” I yelled.

The door burst open.

Not my best friend, Max, walked into the house, his feet kicking empty boxes. My best friend, Colton, followed along with Reid, Max’s brother, a goat tucked under his arm and his nose scrunched up as if I was the animal, not the crazy mammal he was carrying.

“Dude…” Max shook his head, “…you stink.”

Colton winced as a piece of pizza, that had somehow found its way to my ceiling, fell to the ground, narrowly missing his shoes. “Jason…”