Page 62 of Your Biggest Downfall (Ravens Hockey #3)

austin

“We’re all fucking single again,” Jeremy shouted over the blaring music.

“I guess the fuck we are,” I muttered, grabbing another bottle of tequila and tearing the cap off.

It was my second bottle, and I’d been drunk for nearly twenty-four hours straight, mixing booze with blow to keep the high going. I needed it if I was going to make it through Nova’s mom’s funeral tomorrow.

I needed it because I’d spent the past week sitting outside her house, trying to figure out how to say I was sorry, that I’d screwed up—again.

But that’s what I was best at—fucking everything up.

When Luna came out and told me the funeral details, it was clear I wasn’t Nova’s priority anymore.

I was at the bottom, right where I always ended up.

Everyone I cared about always put me last, so I knew my place.

“I need to get to the funeral, dude. I gotta stop drinking,” I slurred, though I wasn’t even convincing myself.

Yesterday, I’d called Jeremy and told him I wanted to party before dealing with the sadness of it all.

But I’d win Nova back tomorrow. I’d show up, make my case, and do whatever she asked of me—even if it meant going back to that fucking joke of a rehab and admitting everyone was right about me being an addict.

Two naked girls strolled around the apartment like they owned the place.

Jeremy must’ve brought them, or maybe hired them—honestly, I didn’t care enough to ask.

They were hot as fuck, but no match against Nova.

Jeremy seemed to be the only one actually interested in partying with them, though.

The rest of us were too far gone, caught up in our own spirals to care about anything except drowning in whatever numbed the pain.

I stood up, taking a swig of tequila, when I noticed Jeremy holding up a small white baggie, grinning like an idiot.

“Wanna go again?” he asked, shaking it slightly, the powder inside glimmering in the light.

What time was it? It was light... already? What day was it?

Jeremy looked over at me. “Want a bump?”

My body craved the numbness, the steady high, the escape. I didn’t hesitate.

One of the girls squealed, her voice piercing through the fog of my mind, and turned toward me, her eyes wild with excitement. She bounced over, breasts swaying, and smirked, locking eyes with me. “Do a line off my tits,” she said, like it was the most casual thing in the world.

I blinked, the absurdity of it barely registering as I lifted the bottle of tequila in my hand. What the hell had my life become?

“Whatever,” I grumbled, not giving a fuck where I took the bump.

The girl sprawled out on the couch, legs spread, nipples pointed toward the ceiling. Jeremy laughed, using his credit card to pour the line and smooth it out like he’d done it a thousand times before.

I pulled a crumpled dollar bill from my pocket, rolling it between my fingers.

Everything around me faded, going numb again.

I didn’t care that I was about to snort coke off some girl’s tits while still married.

I didn’t care about Nova, the funeral, or anything outside of this moment.

I’d care about it tomorrow when the funeral was happening.

The only thing that mattered was the cocaine calling my name, drowning out all the noise.

I leaned down, lined up, and snorted it straight off her chest as she pressed her breasts together, licking around her areola to catch the excess powder, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

As I popped my head up, the burn of the cocaine still fresh in my nose, the room swayed slightly.

Jeremy’s laugh echoed in my ears, muffled like it was coming from a distance.

A numbness settled deep in my body, spreading through my veins, dulling everything—my thoughts, my emotions, the guilt that swam in the back of my mind.

But then, I felt it. A shift in the room. I turned toward the door, blinking through the haze, and there she was.

Nova.

She stood frozen in the doorway, her expression empty, but the pain was there, etched in every line of her face.

She wore a simple black dress that clung to her frame, the kind you’d wear to a funeral.

Her hair, usually wild and curly, was straightened, falling flat around her face.

Dark circles hung beneath her eyes. She looked like a ghost of herself, like everything that made her who she was had been drained away.

I stood there, caught in a moment that stretched forever, my heart pounding in my chest. Was it from the coke or the fact that my wife was standing in the room as I did blow off a naked woman?

“Nova?” I called out as I stumbled in her direction. I scanned the room, realizing how badly I fucked up. Again.

The room, the girls, the drugs—everything fell away, leaving the two of us. And in that instant, I realized how far I’d fallen.

She only shook her head. No tears fell down her cheeks. She stood in the doorway as Luna rubbed her back.

“I’ll change for you,” I whimpered.