Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“I thought you were checking in with people. You’re supposed to.”
I kick at him, which is really fucking dumb because CJ probably has at least thirty pounds of muscle on me and could easily whip my ass, but I’m pissed that he’s pissed.
So, I do it anyway.
“Fuck off, okay?” He doesn’t even budge an inch. “I’ve been clean for seven years! Stop talking to me like I’m a junkie.”
“You are a junkie.”
“I fucked up once! Get the fuck out of my face!”
“And go where, huh? You want me to leave you like this? You can’t even stand! Not to mention what you did to your room. This place looks like shit.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?”
He stands then, looming over me like some massive asshole.
I don’t know when he got to be so big.
He’s not that much taller than me. But his arms and chest and shoulders are huge. He’s intimidating as fuck.
And he looks stupid.
But I don’t tell him that because again, thirty pounds of muscle. I don’t want to get punched.
“Your desk is destroyed. Both beds. Your laptop. There are holes in the walls—”
“Oh no. Call the police. I punched a wall.”
He glares at me. “What about your roommate, huh? What do you think is gonna happen, Jake? Have you even fuckin’ thought about the consequences of your actions? What if an MP finds you? What then?”
“Oh, here we go. Here we go. Officer Tully emerges.” I flip him off. “Suck my dick, pig. Do you really think I need you? I don’t. I’m fine.”
“You’re high off your ass.”
Whatever. I am not.
“Fuck you,” I spat. “Fuck my roommate. And fuck the MPs. You’ll probably rat me out to them anyway. I bet you want to.”
Goddamn military police. They can all suck a dick.
CJ looks at me like I’m crazy. “You need to stop talking before I beat the shit out of you. I swear to God.”
“You need to stop talking,” I grumble, looking at the floor and praying he doesn’t hear me.
CJ sighs and curses under his breath, but he doesn’t say anything else to me.
Not for several minutes, at least.
And the longer he’s quiet, the worse I feel and the sadder I get.
He drove four hundred miles to save me. A locked door couldn’t keep us apart. He’d do anything for me right now, I know he would, and I’m telling him to fuck off and trying to kick him. I’m wishing he wasn’t here so he doesn’t have to see me like this, again, because he’s seen me like this before and I promised him, I promised him it was the last time when I stole from our parents to get high and my own brother, my own flesh and blood had to arrest me. I swore to him that I was done fucking up my life and his and theirs. I was going to do better. And he said he knew I could do it, he believed in me.
“I’ll do anything for you, Jake.”
I cried on his shoulder when he dropped me off at rehab, and he smiled and told me he was so proud of me, and every year, he calls and tells me the same thing. “I’m proud of you, little brother.”
And I’m so fucked up right now, I can’t even stand beside him.
“NoNoNoNo.” I drop my head into my hands as tears fall down my cheeks. I can’t believe I did this. “CJ,” I sob.
His arms are around me before I can tell him how sorry I am. He lets me cry into his neck, even though it’s gross, and it’s like the last conversation didn’t even happen because he isn’t leaving me, I don’t need to do this alone.
“It’s gonna be okay, Jake, I promise,” he says, and I believe him.
I feel better already because my big brother is here. He knows I can do this.
And when he tells me we’ll figure this out, I nod and hold on to him tighter. It’s all I can do.
Everything is going to be okay. He promises me again. And he’s never broken his promises.
I made a mistake. A tiny mistake.
“It’ll be okay, Jake.”
It will. I know it will because CJ will make sure of it. He always does.
“What… the… fuck? Jesus Christ! Are you kidding me, man?”
CJ’s body goes rigid.
He can’t know who that is, he’s never met my roommate, but he knows.
Somehow, he knows.
And he leaves me on the floor to try and explain the situation and save my ass. He’s up and moving, and their voices are colliding.
CJ justifying what I’ve done (God, I love my brother) and my roommate yelling over him and trying to get to me (I fucking dare you), and they’re both talking/screaming at once—it’s muddled together, and Jesus, my hand looks fucked up.
I probably shouldn’t punch anything else.