Page 32 of Cueball & Double-Z (Alpha’s Rejects #5)

God, did I really want to do this? Fuck no.

But I would because everyone had to face their demons eventually.

Even me. My time was finally up. I knew life always came back to bite you in the ass.

I knew this would happen with these two chaos gremlins living with me.

Then I’d hurt them because I hadn’t been ready.

But after last night and the damage I’d caused, I realized I would never be prepared.

No one was ever ready for this sort of hell.

So, this was my time to suck it up. Not just for me, but to give Cole and Gio a piece of me. To be vulnerable for a change.

I reached inside the cabinet under the sink, way in the back, and snagged the bottle I’d hidden there for emergencies just like this. There was a reason I didn’t drink alcohol, but tonight called for it. I needed some sort of numbness.

When I stood, I reached for a tumbler from the cabinet above, set it on the counter, and filled the glass all the way to the top. The bourbon would burn and I would get a bit tipsy, but this was one of those rare times I didn’t give a shit.

Someone touched my arm. I looked down to see Cole with his large eyes filled with concern since he’d never seen me drink before.

“It’s fine,” was all I said. Then I glanced back at Gio, leaning over the counter on the other side of the island, watching me. I hadn’t seen him drink either, but that didn’t mean he didn’t. “Want some?”

“Sure. Not as much as you, though.”

I nodded and reached for another glass, pouring only a fingerful. “You get ‘ zilch ,’ Cole.” He folded his arms and huffed at me, pulling out a smile on my face. Then he pinched his fingers together, asking for a little. “Fine. You can have a sip of mine, but that’s it.”

Cole lifted my glass and sniffed. He scrunched his nose, shook his head, and feigned a gag, making me chuckle. “It’s an acquired taste,” I said.

Once I had my glass in hand, I headed into the living room, set it down on the table, and carefully shoved aside said table so I could sit on the rug, wanting to stretch out.

When I sat, I crossed my legs at the ankles, leaned against the couch, and grabbed my drink, taking a gulp. It did indeed burn going down, but the bourbon was the good, expensive stuff, so it was smooth as well.

Gio sat next to me, setting his glass on the floor.

But when Cole came to sit between his legs, Gio’s eyes blew wide, then a warm smile spread across his face, and he kissed Cole’s head.

Cole leaned against his chest, and Gio wrapped an arm around his front.

Watching them finally accept each other was warmer than the bourbon.

It was fucking beautiful to see and eased my troubled soul, if only a little bit.

I took another sip and sighed. “We need to talk about us, but not tonight. After I face my shit that you should know, I’m going to be emotionally exhausted.

We can talk about the three of us tomorrow.

Hell, maybe you’ll change your minds about me and think I’m too messed up.

Perhaps you’ll understand me a bit more.

Whatever we decide between the three of us, it should be done with full transparency, and you should know my story—a story I haven’t told anyone . ”

Cole quickly signed, shaking his head. “We won’t change our minds.”

“That’s right,” Gio said, nodding in agreement, looking more confident than I’d seen him.

“Perhaps. I think knowing my story will help us rather than hinder us. It’s just… going to be very hard on me. But I’m sure you understand that after my horrible reaction to you both last night. Anyway… here goes.”

I looked at Cole and placed my hand on his cheek.

He leaned into my touch with a smile, closing his eyes.

“I was your age, Cole, when I met Shane. The one from the picture you’d found.

” My hand dropped, and I reached for Gio, running my fingers through his silky hair.

I hadn’t been able to stop doing that. How many times had I touched his hair tonight?

Three? Four? He also closed his eyes to the affection.

I had no doubt both of them were as starved for it as much as I was, which explained the clinging as they slept.

“His hair was the same color as yours, Gio… browns threaded with copper. So pretty.”

I dropped my hand, and with one more sip of my drink, I took the plunge straight into hell.

“Shane Fletcher was my partner for almost nine years. We met when we were attending Johns Hopkins. I was pursuing my bachelor’s degree in cognitive science and sociology.

Double major with a minor in psychology.

Kicked my fucking ass.” I huffed a humorless laugh and took another sip of the bourbon.

“But I was highly motivated back then. Driven. Focused. Sometimes I miss those days. That’s when I met Shane.

He literally crashed right into me, dropping all his papers and books.

That connection with him was instant. If anyone says there’s no such thing as instant love or fate, they’re full of it.

Either they refuse to see, can’t see, or never had the pleasure.

Even as a man of science, I know there’s something greater out there.

I refuse to believe that everything that happens in life is random.

There’s a method to the chaos; we just haven’t discovered it all yet.

Maybe we never will. Perhaps a little mystery keeps humanity curious and motivated to seek answers, keeping our brains functioning.

Can you imagine how boring life would be if we had the answers to everything? ”

‘I like that,’ Cole signed with a dopey smile and dreamy eyes. ‘I believe in fate.’

“I hadn’t until tonight,” Gio said, his hand pressed against Cole’s stomach, pulling him tighter against his chest. Cole looked back at him with love and worship in those huge blue eyes of his. I’d never seen Gio so soft before, only around Cole. It was a nice shift. One he deserved.

Cole pressed a hand on my thigh to get my attention before signing. ‘What happened to Shane?’

My stomach clenched, burning from the bourbon as I swallowed back the lump of pain.

“I loved him so much. So fucking much. You remind me a little bit of him, Cole. So vibrant, happy… he was the one who kept me going when I felt like I would fall from overworking, or felt like I wasn’t good enough to be a cognitive therapist. He had so much confidence in me.

” My eyes met Gio, who watched me intently.

“And you remind me of me, Gio. Honestly, you’re both like me.

When we first met, I saw your pain and frustration with self-worth in me.

But Cole, you represent my guilt. My guilt because Shane died.

He died because I failed him. I failed to see the danger and risk right before my fucking face that he was suicidal, blinded by the confidence that I could take care of him.

That all would be well in the end with enough love and care. ”

I fisted my free hand as I downed the rest of my bourbon. Then I stood to pour some more. I needed to dull myself a bit if I wanted to get through this.

When I sat on the couch, I kept my eyes averted from them, staring at the amber drink swirling in my glass.

I didn’t want to see their pity or their demands that it couldn’t be my fault.

But it was. “He’d been depressed off and on for years, but for the most part, it’d been mild.

Just a short episode here and there. We’d gotten through his episodes well enough.

One night, though… he crashed fucking hard.

I didn’t hesitate to get him help and meds.

He really needed them. Shane was just so…

I barely recognized him, and he refused to get out of bed.

It fucking terrified me, but I was so damn confident with therapy and meds, all would be fine.

Overconfident. But those things would only work if he wanted them to. ”

I closed my stinging eyes and took a shuddering breath, needing to stay under control. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to fucking get through this.

When I rested my head on the cushions of the couch, I sensed movement. Soon, I had two comforting and warm bodies on either side of me as if to hold me up should I fall. But fall, I would. There would be no way to hold me up .

“My ego and ignorance didn’t see him slipping again. Yes, he tried to keep it hidden from me, but I should have seen it, dammit. I should have seen him fall before it was too late. I’d studied this shit for fucking years! I had degrees, a Ph.D., required licenses, supervised training…”

Keeping my eyes closed, I took the plunge into treacherous and frigid waters. Waters of pain and grief.

I can’t believe it. I got the job! I’m now officially a cognitive therapist in the foster care system.

I applied for several jobs, but this is the one I wanted most. To help children and adolescents through their trauma, emotional and behavioral issues, and to teach them coping skills.

Over ten fucking years. Over ten years of sleepless nights, cramming for tests.

Nine years of trying to make a relationship work and keep Shane happy.

The love of my life. I wouldn’t have made it without him.

He’d been my fucking rock through it all.

I just want to help people, especially kids. It wouldn’t make me a ton of money unless I went private, but that isn’t my thing. I want to give to a community in need. And Baltimore needs me.

“We have to go party, Marco,” Dean says. I met him in grad school. He’d also been getting his Ph.D. in the same field, and we’d quickly become friends. “Call Shane and tell him to join us. We need to fucking celebrate, man.”

“Sounds amazing. I could seriously use some unwinding.”

He claps me on the shoulder. “Let’s go to Shorty’s to drink too much beer and play drunken pool.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Got it all planned out, eh?”

He winks at me. “Always. Call Shane to meet us there.”

As Dean calls us an Uber so we don’t have to drive anywhere while drinking, I call Shane. However, he doesn’t answer, so I leave him a voice message and then quickly send him a text to tell him where to meet us.

Me: Shorty’s. Be there. We have some celebrating to do!

Me: Love you, babe!

Dean and I quickly go through an entire pitcher of beer while playing pool, the overhead speakers blasting classic rock. The beer is always cheap here and tastes like piss. It’s why we spent many years hanging out in this dump while in college. But damn if it didn’t have some great memories .

After we wrap up our game, with Dean winning, as always, I check my phone to see if Shane texted back. It’s after nine, and he’s not here yet.

I call him again, but he’s still not answering. “Where are you?” I mumble at my phone before sending him another text.

“Any luck?” Dean asks.

“Nah. I have no idea where he is. He didn’t say anything about going out tonight or hanging out with friends. Usually, I always know where he is, and he knows where I am, so we don’t have to worry.”

He chalks his cue stick and shrugs. “I’m sure he’ll turn up. Another game?”

“You know, I’m getting tired of you kicking my ass.”

Dean barks out a laugh. “You knew what you were getting into with me by being my friend. Sacrifices need to be made.”

I roll my eyes and also chalk up my stick.

We order another pitcher of shitty beer and play again. This time, I finally win and I’m really tipsy by that point. Perhaps that’s the key to winning against this pool shark.

“What time is it?” I ask, pulling out my phone. My stomach suddenly dips to see it’s after eleven, and I haven’t heard from Shane yet.

My buzzed brain is trying to sound the alarm, and I slowly respond to it. Flashes of the last time Shane had crashed, and I wonder if he’s having another episode. Here I am, fucking around and getting drunk.

“I dunno… something’s weird. This isn’t like him. I better get home and see if he’s okay.”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll see you later. Let me know how he is when you get home.”

“Will do.” We shake hands and pull each other into a hug.

I don’t own a car, and I’m too drunk to drive anyway, so I call an Uber to take me home. As I ride in the back, my knee bounces, now feeling anxious. Something feels off with Shane’s silence. This isn’t like him at all. What if he slipped into depression again, and I’m not there?

“Come on. Come on,” I whisper at the driver, willing him to drive faster, a sense of urgency suddenly consuming me. The clock is ticking, and I don’t know why. My drunken brain is just telling me I need to get home immediately.

Fuck, it was like reliving it all over again. “After I found Shane, I relived that moment over and over, searching for all those places where I went wrong.”

I found it hard to breathe, and I was starting to sweat, even if the apartment wasn’t hot. My heart was fucking racing painfully, and my eyes burned so much that a few tears slipped.

Tender fingers brushed against my cheek, and I’d nearly lost it right then. “Please don’t touch me,” I whispered with a shuddering breath. “Thank you, but… not yet. I’ll fucking break if you do. I’m… not ready.”

Gio and Cole sat back, respecting my boundaries, saying nothing as I gathered into myself, holding back the flood of emotions with nothing more than my weak mind. It was like holding back a flash flood with bare hands. But somehow I managed to hold it together with a few deep and calming breaths.

I took another sip of my bourbon. By now, my body was starting to feel numb, even if my brain wasn’t.

As soon as the driver pulls to the curb at our apartment complex, I jump out and rush to the lobby door. I try punching in the code to get in, but my hands are shaking too much.

“Calm the fuck down,” I hiss at myself.

Finally, the door unlocks. I yank it open, and I don’t bother waiting for the elevator to take me to the fifth floor. I’m fit enough to run it up the stairs. By the time I reach our front door, I’m out of breath. I unlock it and rush inside, kicking the door behind me.

“Shane?”

If he’s crashed again, he’s probably buried in our bed.

“I’m here, Shane. I’m here, baby.”

But when I reach the bedroom, I find the bed empty and still made from this morning.

My tense body suddenly unwinds. Okay, he’s not home. Shane probably just forgot to tell me he’s going to be out. God, talk about a panic. I chuckle at my ridiculousness and chalk it up to drinking too much shitty beer.

I head out to the kitchen and pour myself a large glass of water, chugging it all down to make sure I don’t wake up hungover in the morning.

Suddenly, I have to piss, so I head to the bathroom.

But as soon as I open the closed door, I’m assaulted with the stench of copper. I know instantly what that smell is. And I know instantly what’s wrong, even if my mind fights it. Denies it.