Page 180 of Promising You
While he’s back there, I check my phone. Still no messages from Garret. What the hell? I haven’t heard from him since yesterday morning and it was just that one text saying he had to do something with his dad. So is he still with his dad? But his dad isn’t answering his phone. What if something bad happened to both of them?
I’ve gotta figure this out. Something is definitely wrong.
CHAPTERFORTY-TWO
When I stepout of the Jeep, Carson is standing there with my suitcase and the crutches I never used. I offer to take something, but he insists on carrying it all to my room.
“Thanks for bringing my stuff in,” I say as Carson sets my suitcase by the closet. “And thanks again for the ride. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. Need anything else?”
“Nope. I’m good. I’ll see you in class on Monday.” I just want Carson to leave so I can figure out what’s going on with Garret.
“Okay, see ya.”
When he’s gone, I phone Garret again. No answer. I send another text and wait for a response but I get nothing back. Then I call his dad who also doesn’t answer. I don’t know who else to call so I call their home number. The maid answers and says nobody’s home.
I run up to the second floor. I’m sure Garret’s not in his room. If he was, he would’ve answered his phone or sent me a text. But I figure I might as well rule out all the options.
His floor is quiet because people are still on spring break. I knock on his door several times but as expected, he doesn’t answer.
So he’s not at home. He’s not at school. Where the hell is he?
I check my phone again and still have no messages. As I’m walking back down the hall I hear a door open. I look back and see that it’s Garret’s door, so I run back.
“Garret, where have you—” I stop because I can’t believe what I’m seeing. He’s standing there in jeans and a wrinkled black t-shirt, holding a half-empty bottle of vodka.
“Hey,” he says, tipping the bottle up at me.
His hair is a mess and his normally bright blues eyes are glassy and distant. He reeks of alcohol and I notice three other bottles of liquor on his desk.
My chest gets heavy and tight and I’m only able to take short, shallow breaths. Time seems to slow as I try to process what I’m seeing. Try to make sense of it somehow.
“What is this?” I ask him. “What’s happening here? What are you doing?”
He walks slowly to the bed and slumps down on it, still holding his bottle.
I snatch it from him. He looks up briefly, but otherwise doesn’t seem to care.
“Tell me what’s going on here.” I set the bottle on the floor, then shake his shoulders to get his attention. “Garret, talk to me.”
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
“Sorry about what?” Tears are now streaming down my face. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know it’s bad. It’s really bad. “What happened? Why are you drinking?”
“I couldn’t deal with—” His eyes close.
“Couldn’t deal with what?” I shake him again, then stop because it might make him throw up. I sit next to him. “Garret, look at me.” His eyes slowly open. “Why are you drunk? Would you please say something? Anything?”
He puts his hand on my face, wiping the tears off my cheek. “Don’t cry, Jade. It’s my fault.”
“What do you mean? What’s your fault?”
He’s quiet again.
I’m exhausted from being awake all night, but I use every last bit of energy I have to stop crying and focus on figuring this out.
“Garret, you need to tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring the shit out of me. Please just talk to me.”
