Chapter 119 BROKEN
CHAOS.
I hadn’t showered in three days.
The bottle of whiskey that sat on my nightstand had become my constant companion.
I’d been nursing it ever since that goddess-forsaken day—ever since I chased Merrielynn off the football field.
Every time I thought about what I’d said, what I’d done, I took another swig. My throat burned as the alcohol went down, but it didn’t stop me. It didn’t stop the tightening in my chest, or the image of her face as her eyes filled with tears.
I could still see it clear as day: the way her eyes glassed up, the tremble in her body as she tried to keep her composure, like I hadn’t just destroyed her.
I hated myself for it.
Every single second of every minute.
And the worst part? I knew I had lost her for good. She would never forgive me for what I said to her.
And why should she? I hadn’t given her a reason to. What I said was cruel, heartless… unforgivable.
She’d never look at me the same way. She’d never want to be within an inch of me.
But at the same time, I told myself it was for her own good.
She was safe now, wasn’t she?
That’s what mattered, right?
I could live with the guilt if it meant she stayed alive.
Safe.
I’d rather she forget me all over again if it meant she would be alive.
I rolled over on my bed and peeled my eyes open, squinting at the dim light filtering through the curtains.
The air felt thick.
Oxygen was tight in my lungs, and I could barely breathe through the weight of it all. My chest was heavy, and every movement felt like dragging a ton of bricks behind me.
I reached over to my bedside table, fumbling for my cigarettes. My hands were shaky, and I cursed under my breath as I lit one, inhaling deeply.
The smoke hit my lungs, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped.
Not the alcohol, not the nicotine. Nothing could erase what I had done.
Her face. Her voice. The way she’d looked at me, broken.
The way her heart shattered in front of me.
I couldn’t get it out of my head.
I shot out of bed, ready to take a cold, cold shower. I needed something to clear my head, something to wash away the feeling of suffocation.
But before I could even reach the bathroom, the doorbell rang. I froze, irritated.
I wasn’t in the mood for company. I didn’t want to see anyone.
My phone buzzed, vibrating on my bed. I glanced at the screen over on the bed, and saw the name flashing across it.
Valtor.
I had been avoiding him for days, ever since that mess at practice.
After I stormed off the field, I drove away without looking back. I didn’t want to be around anyone.
He had been trying to reach me ever since, but I hadn’t answered a single call or message. I couldn’t talk to him. I couldn’t talk to anyone.
But Valtor wasn’t giving up.
I could see his name staring at me from the screen, and the thought of ignoring him any longer felt like too much.
So I crushed my cigarette and trudged toward the door, opening it without a word.
Valtor stood there, surprised for a second, like he thought I wouldn’t answer the door, before his eyes swept over me.
He didn’t say anything at first, but I could see the concern in his gaze.
It was more than just worry; it was something else—something deeper, something that made the lump in my throat grow.
He didn’t even bother to comment on my appearance, which was a first.
Normally, he’d be cracking jokes about how awful I looked, but today, he just stared at me with the most careful look I’d ever seen on his face.
“Can I come in?” he asked softly.
I narrowed my eyes at him for a moment. But then I stepped aside, opening the door wider.
I didn’t have the energy to bicker.
He walked in and looked around, taking in the mess that had taken over my place.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice tentative.
I dropped onto the couch without answering, sinking into the cushions like they might swallow me whole.
My eyes searched the space for the remote control carefully.
I didn’t want to talk about how I was feeling. I didn’t want to talk at all.
Valtor didn’t push me.
Instead, he picked up the remote from the floor and walked over, before holding it out to me. I took it from him, then powered it on, logging into Netflix and putting on an episode of One Piece.
“Cormac,” Valtor said after a while, his voice coming out even softer. “I know.”
I didn’t look at him.
I didn’t want to.
But I could feel his eyes on me, intense and knowing. I knew what he meant. He knew what had happened.
My chest tightened painfully.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Cormac,” he said slowly.
Anguish coated his words.
It wasn’t just for my mom.
It was for Lorelai too. The way he said it, I could tell he meantit forboth.
A lump formed in my throat, and I focused my gaze on the TV.
Slowly, all I gave him was a nod of my head, acknowledging his condolences.