Page 12 of The Bad Brother
I am capable.
Over and over, until the ringing in my ears tapers off into a quiet buzz and it no longer feels like I have an army of fire ants trapped between my scalp and skull.
Good, Sloane. You handled that very well, my imaginary therapist tells me in his calm, soothing voice. Imaginary because I’ve never actually been to therapy. I had my first panic attack when I was nineteen. When I tried to talk to my mother about it, she laughed at me.
You’re a pretty girl from a good family. Why on earth would you need a therapist?
I learned the grounding technique with the sour candy from TikTok. Who needs therapy when you have Atomic Warheads and words of affirmation?
When I hear myself laugh, I’m mildly concerned that my panic attack hasn’t abated—just merely shifted itself into full-blown psychosis.
Since I don’t think citric acid can stop a psychotic break, I open my eyes to fish a travel pack of tissue out of my purse. Plucking one free, I spit the last bit of my candy into it before wadding it in my fist while my new reality settles in.
I am homeless.
I am broke.
I am alone.
And I have my loving fiancé to thank for it.
“JENSEN… OH, GAWD…” THE SOFT CURSEis followed up by a quick, hard smack delivered to the inside of my bare thigh.
I come up swinging, fists raised, eyes wide open. Curtains no longer cracked, they’re yanked open. The hot Texas sun streaming through the uncovered glass, stabbing into my eyes so hard all I see is a burst of white. Blinking rapidly to clear my vision, I see River, standing on the other side of my bedroom by the door, hand slapped over her eyes. Face as red as a beet.
“What the hell, Riv—” I drop my gaze to assess the damage done to my inner thigh and end up staring at my own dick.
Shit, I’m naked.
“What the hell.”
This time it has a panicked edge to it as I scramble overthe side of my bed and snatch up the towel that I fell asleep wearing and has obviously come loose.
“I’m sorry.” Face still beet red, River shakes her head. Hand still clamped firmly over her eyes, she turns in the direction of my voice. “I tried calling but you didn’t answer and then I came up here and knocked but youstilldidn’t answer and I got worried so?—”
“Worried?” Wrapping the towel loosely around my waist, I make a beeline for my dresser and yank open the top drawer. “Why the fuck would you be worried about me?” I don’t know what time it is but I know I haven’t been asleep more than a few hours. Snapping a pair of boxer briefs out of the drawer, I pull them on under my towel before letting it drop completely. Junk secured, the panic starts to fade. “What time is it?”
River must hear it because her shoulders relax, even though her hand stays covering her eyes. She’s not going to drop it until I give her the all clear. “Which question do you want me to answer first?”
Opening the middle drawer, I pull out a pair of jeans. Bending slightly I feed one leg in and then the other. Pulling them up, I give them a zip. “What time is it, Riv?”
“Just after three.” Hearing the zipper, the hand over her eyes loosens but doesn’t drop. “Can I look? I’m getting a little dizzy.”
Barking out a laugh, I turn toward my closet to get a shirt. “Yeah,” I tell her, flipping through my meager collection of T- shirts, I find one I don’t mind getting blood and beer on. “You can look.”
Dropping her hand with a sigh, River’s cheeks pink up again when she sees me, standing here without a shirt. “TheLadie’s Auxiliary is here,” she tells me, gaze averted while I finish getting dressed. “They brought the local boy scout troop over to clean up the parking lot after last night.” Her face loses some of its color when she says it, a reminder that the accident, and what we were witness to, had been hard on all of us—but undoubtedly more so for her.
“Shit.” Pulling my shirt hastily over my head, I close my closet door before making my way toward her. Reaching out, I wrap loose hands around her shoulders and turn her while angling myself into her line of sight. “I’m sorry, Riv. Things were so fucked last night, I didn’t even think about?—”
“I’m okay.” She offers me a bright smile I’m not sure I believe. River lost both of her parents in a car accident when she was thirteen. Without family, able or willing to care for her, she ended up in the system. By the time she was seventeen, she was a full-blown addict. As if to convince both of us that last night’s accident didn’t trigger the start of some sort of relapse, River shakes her head. “Seriously, I’m fine.”
Yeah. Still not convinced.
“If you start to feelunfine?—”
“I’ll call my sponsor and get my ass to a meeting,” she finishes while the too bright smile starts to fade. “Look, I’m not saying last night didn’t suck but?—”
“Riv—is he up there?” Cade shouts up the stairs, his muffled tone reminding me that River came up here looking for me because she was worried about me.
