“Take a moment before you go out there, okay?” Morgan said, then grabbed the cups and resumed whatever he'd been doing before Adam arrived.
Adam slumped into a chair, swallowed down two pills, then lingered over the coffee as long as he could manage it before he dragged himself up and went to face the crowds.
The day seemed to last forever, right up until it was time for him to clock out. Then it hit him just how early in the afternoon it was. How many hours he had left to kill on his own.
He wanted to call John. Or go see him. Except that would mean disturbing the man at work, and Adam wasn't about to do that.
In the end, he went home and blasted some music, singing along at the top of his lungs, hoping the burst of expression would help quiet the nagging voice in his head, telling him to go straight to the bottle. It was easier when Haven got home from work. But once Haven went to bed, all bets were off.
The next day went by in a hazy blur. Adam felt like he was running on autopilot, going through the motions of getting up, getting dressed, going to work, and coming home. All the while, his heart kept beating a little too fast. Every time he walked past a calendar, he couldn't help eyeing the date.
Nine years ago that day, John was kicking Adam out of his bed. Three days from now, Adam would turn twenty-seven.
Which meant, in just two days, he'd have to face the anniversary of the worst day of his life.
He didn't even make it that far before he lost it.
On Friday morning, Adam found himself dressed and in his car, heading to work, with no memory of how he'd gotten there. His hands shook and he broke out in a sweat all over as the memories assaulted him, one after the other.
John's fingertips touching his naked backside, giving him the first, glorious hints of what he'd been craving for months, only to have it snatched away in heartbreaking rejection.
Being stuck in a hospital waiting room, bored to tears, only to hear those devastating words.
“We did everything we could…”
His own voice screaming over and over until he had to be sedated.“Daddy! No! No! Daddy, please! No!”
Banging on John's door, needing the man even after his rejection.
Pouring that first glass of scotch that his dad would never drink.
Adam yanked the steering wheel to the right, barely registering the blaring horns all around him as he pulled into a liquor store parking lot. He rushed inside and grabbed the first bottle of alcohol he saw, not even caring what it was. Adam's hands shook as he pulled out his ID. A manic laugh escaped him. Of course, today, he'd remembered his wallet, so there was nothing to stop him as he threw cash on the counter and rushed out of the store, barely making it to his car before he opened the bottle and gulped down several swallows. He winced at the burn of it, but as the alcohol settled in his empty stomach and began to enter his bloodstream, the voices slowly grew quiet.
He shoved the bottle into a cup holder, started his car, and continued the last few blocks to work.
Chapter 15
_________
JOHN
JOHN KNEW what the call was about even before he pulled his phone out of his pocket. It hit him all at once, right at the first vibration: the realization that he'd been expecting this—braced for it, even—deep down in his bones.
He barely registered Morgan's name on the screen before he answered.
“Hello?”
“John?” Morgan replied, his voice just audible over some shouting in the background. “I'm so sorry to bother you at work, but–” Morgan broke off as another shout sounded over the line, followed by a crash. “Adam–”
John flew out of his office. “I'm on my way,” he told Morgan. “Donotlet anyone call the cops on him.” He ended the call without waiting for a reply. John jumped into his truck, fired it up, and raced into town.
When he finally reached the coffee shop, he had to park almost two blocks away, the Friday crowds taking up all the spaces. John sprinted down the sidewalk and flung open the door, pausing only for a second to look around. A few customerssat at the tables, muttering to one another and eyeing the back of the shop.
John spotted Morgan behind the counter. The boy pointed, which was all the permission John needed. He raced behind the counter and ducked into the back rooms.
He almost ran right into a middle-aged man whose hair stuck out wildly, like the man had been pulling at it in frustration. The man saw him and held up a hand. “I'm sorry, sir. You can't be back–”
“Where's Adam?” John demanded.
