Page 15 of Up In Smoke

I try and put that from my mind as I start pulling out ingredients to make waffles, as well as sausages and orange juice. I crack an egg into a mixing bowl then step on the lever to open the trash can so I can dispose of the shell.

The first thing I see is the empty bottle of tequila glinting back at me.

My stomach drops. I’d completely forgotten I even had that from some party with the One-Thirteen where I’d made margaritas. What cupboard has it been languishing in all this time?

How hard did Jesse have to look to find it?

My desire to make breakfast vanishes. I toss the rest of the egg in the trash as well and the dirty bowl in the sink before tidying the other bits away. We can make toast or cereal instead.

After we’ve talked.

“Jesse, can you come out here please?” I call through the door sternly.

It opens a moment later to reveal him yawning and stretching, bleary-eyed and dressed only in his boxers.

Only he doesn’t look so helpless and vulnerable now.

“Put some clothes on,” I grind out. He doesn’t even seem to notice as he turns around and reaches for the pile I laundered for him yesterday.

I feel like such a fool.

He’s still rubbing his face as he stumbles into main living area of my apartment, bare footed and sleep rumpled. “You need help with breakfast?” he asks, looking around the kitchen.

My anger blows out of me, replaced with a deep, aching sadness. I was ready to read him the riot act. But the truth is I have no power to tell him what to do. In fact, that’s probably the last thing he needs right now. I’m not his parent or his boss. I’m not really anything to him other than his brother’s friend.

But in this moment, I realize I want to be his friend, too. I want to give him a safe place to do something about the mess he’s gotten himself into.

When is he going to admit he needs help?

“Jesse…sorry, Jay.” I curse myself. Well, that was a shit start. He blinks owlishly at me. “I…I’m worried about you.”

He frowns, and immediately my heart sinks a little further. I don’t want to upset him, but who else is going to offer an intervention if not me?

“I’m fine,” he says. “Hungry, though. I thought you said we were going to have breakfast.”

I lick my lips, trying to keep diplomatic. “We can. We will. But Jay…you need help. I find you half-dead yesterday, then today?—”

He shakes his head. “I told you. I don’t need to go to a hospital. I can’t anyway. But I’m fine.” He offers me a sparkling smile that reminds me why Hollywood came calling for him all those years ago. However, it’s not lost on me that it doesn’t reach his eyes.

It’s my turn to shake my head. “I’m not talking about your injuries,” I say softly. Having checked him over myself when we got home yesterday, I mean that. The cracked ribs are going to bother him for a while, but like the cuts and bruises, they’ll heal with time.

The other wounds, the deeper, hidden ones, are what’s scaring me right now.

“Then what—?” Jesse begins.

“The tequila,” I say quietly, flicking my gaze toward the trash can then back at him.

His lips part as he stares at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I sigh, knowing this was never going to be easy. “The now empty bottle of tequila that you unsuccessfully tried to hide from me.”

“Fine,” he snaps mulishly. “You said I could help myself to anything, but if it’s a problem, I’ll pay you back for it when I get a new job. I just?—”

“This isn’t about money, Jay,” I interrupt impatiently. “You’re…this isn’t healthy.”

He glares at me for a moment before turning on his heels, heading back toward the spare room. “I didn’t come here to be judged. I’m an adult and I live my life however I want. If that’s against your rules, I’ll leave.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying!” I cry as I follow him. “I’m just worried about you.”