Page 10 of Code Word (The Atrous #3)

SEVEN

“Blake.”

Someone shook my shoulder.

“Blake.”

I cracked an eyelid, regretting it immediately. “Fuck.”

“Here, sit up,” the voice said, taking my arm and pulling me to sit up.

Christ. Was I on the floor?

My stomach churned and I had to feel my head to make sure there wasn’t a blunt object wedged through my skull.

“Fuuuuuck.”

The voice hummed in disappointment.

I looked up to see who it was.

Becca.

Oh, great.

I didn’t think it was possible to feel worse.

“Jesus Christ, Blake,” she mumbled, then she was gone. I scrubbed my hands over my face, feeling the grit in my eyes, the three-day beard. The desert in my mouth; the pain in my head.

The ache in my heart.

Then Becca was back, handing me a glass of water. Her face was a picture of sadness and pity, and yep, it was somehow possible to feel even worser er .

As a distraction to not look at her, I sipped the water and my stomach lurched. “Oh god,” I mumbled.

Becca took the glass of water and took my hand. She pulled me to my feet and it made me want to puke. “Go shower. Don’t lock the door,” she said, pushing me toward the hall. “In case you pass out or something.”

Christ almighty.

I stumbled into my bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before I vomited. And vomited.

And vomited.

I showered sitting on the floor.

I felt like death.

I wondered how it was possible to feel this bad and still be alive.

I sat there until I remembered Becca was downstairs, so I made myself get up. I would have vomited again if it were physically possible.

I was going to shave but couldn’t. Physically could not stand up long enough.

Also couldn’t stand looking at myself in the mirror.

Maddox’s lyrics in “Reflections” ran through my mind.

A stranger stares back at you

The face looks familiar

But the eyes

You don’t recognize the eyes

God, I felt those lyrics now.

Yeah. I wasn’t looking in a mirror anytime soon.

I managed to pull on some sweatpants and a T-shirt and made my way out to the kitchen, where Becca was unpacking a brown paper bag of groceries.

“I ordered these,” she said, not looking at me. “Because you had nothing. Have you eaten at all in the last three days?”

I couldn’t remember . . .

“Yeah.” Hmm. “What day is it?”

“It’s Tuesday.”

Tuesday?

I tried to count back.

Coulda sworn it was Monday. Had I missed a day?

Becca put a glass in front of me with fizzing orange liquid. “Drink this.”

It smelled awful.

It fizzed at my nose and made my stomach roll, but I sipped it.

Then there was a slice of toast in front of me. “Eat up. I plugged your phone in too because it was dead.”

I groaned at the toast as if it had offended me personally. I picked at it, sipping the heinous, fizzy hangover drink, regretting both. But my stomach wasn’t even my biggest concern. “My head hurts.”

“You can’t have pills until you eat something.”

I whined.

Actually whined.

Becca raised one eyebrow at me and then I regretted that too.

I ate half the toast and managed most of the drink, and then two Advil appeared on the counter in front of me. I sighed and took the pills, finished the drink and toast, and wallowed in my misery for a minute.

I knew I had to tell Becca we were over.

We had to have that conversation.

“So,” Becca said. “We should probably talk.”

My gaze cut to hers, and seeing her sad smile, I knew.

I knew she was on the same page as me.

I nodded.

“Yeah. We probably should. ”

“You feeling any better?”

I wasn’t, but I didn’t want to guilt her any more than I already had. “Yeah, thanks.”

She studied me for a beat before she smiled and shook her head. “You’re a terrible liar.”

I smiled more genuinely this time and nodded my agreement. She knew me too well...

I also couldn’t let her be the one to do all the hard work here. I owed her that, at least.

I pushed my plate away and turned to face her. “The week we spent here with your friends kinda showed me that we’re not really in the same place. If you know what I mean.”

She nodded, and her sad smile hurt me in ways I wasn’t quite prepared for.

“You deserve someone who will treat you better than I can,” I added. “And I don’t think I’m that person. And I’m sorry for that. I wish I was. I never meant to hurt you or to give you false hope. I kinda thought we were good together, in the beginning...”

“We were,” she said quietly. “As friends, maybe?”

“I hope your mom won’t hate me.”

Becca laughed. “She could never. She loves you, Blake.”

I sighed, because damn, I’d now hurt both her kids.

I wanted to mention Luke. I wanted to talk about him, but damn... I couldn’t make myself say the words.

“I don’t want things to be awkward,” I murmured. “Between us. I hope we can still hang out. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed.”

She put her hand on my arm. “Blake, it’s not your fault.

I knew what I was getting myself into. Like Vana said.

She knew what she was getting herself into with Luke, like I knew with you.

We would always be your second priority.

In the beginning, that was enough. But now.

..” She shrugged. “I need someone who’ll put me first.”

“That’s fair. ”

And it was, one hundred percent.

“So what will you do?” she asked, looking around the kitchen. “I’m surprised you came here, to be honest. When Jeremy texted me that you were here, I just assumed you’d go home.”

Home.

I shook my head. “I think I’ll move into this place,” I said, needing to clear my throat. “Or sell it? I don’t even know.”

Becca stared at me, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it doesn’t really feel like a home to me. Maybe it’s just because I haven’t spent much time here; I don’t know. Maybe I should give it a month or so.”

“Blake,” she said gently.

I didn’t understand her concern. “What? It’s just a house...”

“You and Luke . . .”

“What about us?” I said, standing up. I collected my plate and glass and carried them to the sink. I picked up my phone from the counter and saw I’d sent Luke more texts.

Hey call me please

Hey asshole text me back

I miss you

Sorry for whatever I did

He hadn’t replied. Hadn’t even opened them.

“He’s not talking to me, and he asked me for some time. He needed time away from me, and that included his house, so here I am.”

Becca’s expression went from sad and concerned to understanding. “That explains why you got yourself blackout drunk for three days.”

“I don’t know what I did to piss him off or upset him,” I said. “Have you spoken to him?” Then I felt bad for asking. “ Sorry. I don’t mean to put you in a bad spot. He’s your brother...”

She was quiet for a moment.

“I haven’t spoken to him. I sent him a message the day you guys left but he never replied.

Jeremy told me Maddox and Roscoe went up to the cabins, Luke stayed with them, and you came home.

I didn’t ask why. He just said Luke would be fine, but he found you on the floor surrounded by vodka and Scotch bottles. ”

My stomach lurched at the mere mention of alcohol.

But something she said stuck in my mind.

Luke would be fine.

“He’ll be fine, huh? Is that what Jeremy said? That Luke will be fine.”

Fuck, that hurt.

“That’s nice,” I said, trying to choke out the words. “Well, good that he’ll be fine because he’s away from me. Doesn’t matter that I’m not fine. No one seems to give a fuck about that.”

Christ, my eyes and the burning tears threatening to fall betrayed me. I groaned and let my head fall back, digging the heels of my hands into my eye sockets. “Fuck. I lost two Doughertys in a few days. Is that a record or something? Christ, your mom really is gonna hate me.”

Becca pulled on my hand so I could look at her. She sat on the stool next to mine and that sad smile was back.

“You didn’t lose us,” she began.

Which was wrong.

“Luke won’t speak to me.”

She pursed her lips together and squeezed my hand. “Blake, I’m gonna tell you some things, and I need you to hear me out.”

Ugh.

Another one of those truth-hurts conversations.

“If you’re gonna tell me I need to work on myself, Jeremy already beat you to it,” I said pathetically. “I know he’s not wrong, so whatever. Don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to work on, so any hints would be great. Am I a bad friend? A shitty person? Help me out here.”

I refused to believe what Jeremy had said was the issue...

Becca smiled at that. “No, Blake. You’re a good person and a good friend.”

“Except to Luke. I did something colossal there, apparently. Dunno what exactly, but okay.”

She shook her head, maybe even rolled her eyes a little, then sighed. “Blake, I love you, so I’m gonna tell you straight. You deserve that.”

Well, that was never good.

“Okay.”

“Luke is in love with you, and he has been for years. You are oblivious and blind.”

Christ, that was exactly what Jeremy had said.

Could they both be wrong?

“But that’s not even the mind-blowing part,” she said, her eyes serious.

Mind-blowing?

“What?”

“God, I’m going to hold your hand when I tell you this.” Her hold on my hand tightened. “Blake, you’re in love with him too.”

I snorted and shook my head, but she wasn’t done.

“He’s your one person. He’s always been your one person. You love him. You’re in love with him.”

God, why was everyone fixated on this?

“Sure, I love him. But not like that. I’m not gay.”

“You don’t need to be, Blake. Jeez. Neither was Jeremy, remember? Before Steve. He fell in love with the person.”

I sighed and pulled my hand away from hers. “I’m not in love with him. ”

She gave me a pitiful, out-of-patience look. “Blake. You need him. You can’t function without him.”

“Well, that’s not true.”

“He broke up with you and you spiraled,” she countered. “He spiraled when you left for a week, broke up with Vana, and what did you do? Cuddled with him on the couch and kissed the top of his head.”

I brushed that off. “I was just being... I dunno. She was pissed that he chose me instead of her and?—”

“And you kissed the top of his head to claim him as yours and not hers.”