Page 34 of Kings Don't Break

Thoughts of Korine and Mom and Bill keep filling my brain. More static noise I can’t filter out. Meanwhile, the slithery voice in my ear tells me to just do it.

Just take one sip. One tiny sip can’t hurt. Do it. DO IT.

Sydney slides the glass of whiskey toward me and then moves on to pouring a drink for somebody else; all without knowing what she’s just done. That she’s just dropped blood in shark-infested waters.

My fingers curl around the glass. I stare into its amber-colored contents, so damn tempted there aren’t enough words to express it. So damn tempted, in this second, I’d die for it—I’d be willing to meet my maker if it meant just one tiny taste.

“What’s going on here?” comes Mace’s voice from behind. The sound’s distinct and commanding and rough on the ears.

It serves as an alarm bell that wakes me up from the spell I’ve slipped under. I’m pulled out of the black hole and come to my senses.

He’s standing beside me at the bar counter. His normally stony face is even stonier than usual. His eyes focus on the glass in my hand, then meet mine in a hard glare. He says nothing else, though he doesn’t need to—his stare’s enough. The knowing glint in his dark green eyes communicates his judgment.

His disappointment.

I let go of the glass and slide out of the stool. “I was just… heading out.”

“Cash,” he starts.

“I’ll see you around, Mace. Syd.”

Several more guys try to stop me on my walk out. None of their slurred pleas work. I’m of a one-track mind as I stride toward my bike. First came the noise I had been trying and failing to shut out. Then came the temptation. Temptation so strong I almost gave in for the second time. Now comes the shame.

The shame I let my vices rule me. The shame I’m not the son Mom and Bill wish I was.

The fucking shame that Kori can’t stand to be around me for two seconds. She wants nothing to do with me. Just like Mom and Bill want nothing to do with who I really am.

It’s the ugly truth staring me in the face.

The ugliness on the inside that I can’t seem to fix no matter how hard I try.

* * *

Aimless and alone, I stop by the convenience store on the way home. This time I go through with my transaction. I buy a bottle of White Oak Whiskey and set it down on my kitchen table along with a glass I don’t immediately fill.

It serves as an unbearable temptation as I pace back and forth and have an internal debate with myself over what I want to do next. If I want to finally give into the inevitable and take a drink—just a fucking drop—or if I want to keep up the fight.

I’ve made it this far. I’ve come out on the other side. The second I let a drop of that whiskey touch my tongue, then it’s over.

Bill would be proven right once and for all.

My jaw clenches hard and I run both hands through my hair. I make more laps around the trailer, throwing furtive glances at the bottle of whiskey on the table. It’s possible I could keep a hold on myself. That I won’t make the same mistakes I did before…

My phone vibrates with a text notification. Janessa’s name pops up on my screen.

I miss u. I’m sorry about before. Come over??

After our last fiasco, I swore off messing with Janessa again, but as the bottle of White Oak stares at me out the corner of my eye, I’m thinking of taking her up on her offer. It’ll be enough of a distraction to eat up the rest of the night.

Husking out a deep breath, I shake my head. Janessa’s text is deleted. The bottle of White Oak gets put away in my cabinet along with the glass.

I step back with my fingers deep in my hair and tell myself it’s the right decision.

Go to bed. Go to bed and wake to day eighteen hundred and twelve…

An abrupt knock on the door sounds before I can. It’s not the kind of knock that’s heavy or insistent; it’s the kind of knock that sounds louder than it is due to the night’s silence. I pad over to the door, peeling back the corner of my curtain window.

It can’t be…