Page 37 of Shaken and Stirred (Bottle Service Boys #1)

ALEX

Shit .

My hands trembled as I stared at the door Ryder yanked shut behind him.

Cold sweat dripped down my spine, raising a trail of goose bumps in its wake.

Shit .

I squeezed my eyes shut as I blew out an unsteady breath.

It didn’t help.

“Alex…”

I turned back to my mom, fighting to keep my face impassive, but one look at her disapproving frown, and time turned back to when I was ten and in trouble for throwing ice-packed snowballs at my neighbor’s car.

“Alex…” she said again as I crouched down to redress the wound on her foot. This time, her voice held a disapproving bite I hadn’t heard directed my way in ages.

“I know. I was a dick.”

“I’m not sure who that boy was, but he helped you out at two in the morning.”

I’d have chuckled at how she called Ryder a boy if I had an ounce of humor lurking in me tonight.

“That’s a good friend, honey.”

Friend. Is that what we were? Probably not after the way I screamed at him for daring to return my phone. The disappointment in my mom’s gaze was nothing compared to my internal flagellation.

“I’ll apologize to him at work tomorrow.”

I avoided looking up at her while I placed the gauze beneath her toes, then wrapped it the way her surgeon had demonstrated.

As detrimental as her neuropathy was, in times like these, I was grateful she couldn’t feel a normal sensation in her foot.

At least these twice-weekly dressing changes didn’t cause her pain.

“Care to tell me why you reacted that way?”

“No.”

Her silence hit harder than if she told me I was being a brat.

“It’s nothing.” I sighed. “Personal stuff. We have a bit of a complicated friendship.”

There was that word again.

“Are you ashamed of me? For your friend to meet me? You never bring anyone around.”

“What?” I jerked my head up, meeting her sad gaze. “No. Of course not. You’ve met Trevor.”

She pressed her lips together as she nodded. “Yes, but he is the only friend we’ve met in years.”

“I’m not ashamed.”

Was I? I’d always considered myself protective, but who was I protecting, my mother or myself?

She patted my hand in a way that told me she didn’t believe me but didn’t harbor any resentment. “Good night, honey. Thank you for helping out your brother. Now you go and try to get some sleep.” She cast a worried look Kenny’s way.

“He’ll be okay. He’s on his side in case he vomits. Now he needs to sleep it off.” Her forehead wrinkled as she stared at him. “He’s going to feel awful in the morning.” Moisture glistened in her eyes, threatening to spill over her cheeks.

I snorted. “Good.”

“Alex…” She sighed out a heavy, weight-of-the-world breath. Then she shook her head and squeezed my hand. “You’re a good son and a good brother.”

“Do you need help getting into bed?” I asked as she turned her wheelchair and started down the hallway.

“No. I can manage tonight. I’ve had a lot of nervous energy since you got home with Kenny.”

She’d been dozing in her chair when I burst through the door with my unconscious brother over my shoulder.

Of course, she hadn’t been asleep in bed.

Nothing had gone my way tonight, so why wouldn’t she be present to witness Kenny’s state while passed out and bloody?

Her tears broke my heart and fanned the flames of fury at Kenny’s thoughtlessness and stupidity.

“Goodnight, Mom.”

“Goodnight, honey. Don’t forget to make things right with your friend tomorrow.”

“I will,” I whispered as she rolled down the hallway, then into her room. The door clicked shut, and my shoulders slumped. Suddenly, the weight of the night came crashing down on me with so much force that I almost collapsed to my knees.

I’d had to leave work early.

My car broke down.

Kenny was a mess.

Mom was upset.

I’d have to fix all of those things. It’s what I did. Each task represented time, energy, and money I didn’t have to spare.

Worst of all, I’d screamed at the one person who’d been on my side.

I was an asshole.

Kenny’s gentle snores reverberated through the otherwise quiet house. He’d be safe there on the couch until he awoke feeling like trash.

As I stood in the center of the living room with my arms limp at my sides, a numbness washed over me.

Shame over upsetting my mother left, anger over my out-of-commission vehicle faded, and worry for Kenny evaporated.

Even guilt over the way I treated Ryder vanished.

My chest felt hollow, as though someone had scooped out everything inside.

I couldn’t move.

As awful as those other feelings had been, this was a hundred times worse. I was empty. I didn’t even feel human.

And I hated it.

My gaze drifted to my cell phone, lying face down on the floor near the door.

Kenny uttered something unintelligible in a nasally mumble.

The walls began to close in, shrinking down until it felt like I was in a box so small I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t be there.

After glancing at my brother, I grabbed the phone and ran from my house.