“You need to lay off the booze, brother. I understand you. Trust me, I do. But you can’t keep drinking away your grief. Scream, yell, fuck it out, but do not sit here and drink yourself into a grave right next to Coop. You know damn fucking well he wouldn’t want that for you.”
He looks at me for a few more beats before he walks away from where I’m standing, mouth gaping, and shuts the door with a loud click echoing throughout the otherwise silent room.
He has no fucking clue—none of them do. No one knows what it’s like to lose the other part of your goddamn life. No one. They all look at me with pity and it makes me sick. My brother was my reason for living. For as long as I can remember, he was the reason I woke up, and now that he’s gone, I have no clue how to move on from this darkness I’ve been drowning in. Every time I close my eyes, I see his smile and it kills me to know that I wasn’t there to save him when he needed me.
For the first time that I can remember, I let him down.
And I have no idea how to move on from that.
*
After taking a scalding-hot shower, I’m finally feeling human enough to join Maddox. Judging by the noises coming from the living room, that’s where I’m going to find him.
Coming around the corner, I feel my mouth drop. What the hell happened to this place? He wasn’t wrong; it looks like a tornado came through. Hell, there might have been an earthquake as well.
Maddox isn’t big on the whole decoration shit, but then again, being a single guy myself, I completely get it. There’s no need for accents and shit when it’s just going to be you looking at the shit. It isn’t barren, which my old apartment was, but it damn sure is lacking anything personal. Just white walls and black furniture. It’s pretty much your typical bachelor pad. The only thing making it a step up from college dorm life is the lack of naked women posted on the walls with thumbtacks. It’s not much of a step, but at least there’s that.
I had my reasons for keeping my old apartment void of personal touches. I didn’t even have pictures of Coop out around the place. It just had the bare minimum needed for me to come, eat, and sleep. It was, hands down, my fuck pad. More importantly, there were no reminders of the life I’d left behind when I got out of the Marines.
I wasn’t enlisted long. I went in and got the fuck out. Don’t get me wrong; I respect the hell out of these guys. I respect the hell out of anyone willing to risk their lives for our country. I saw things and did things that can never be unseen or undone. I’ve killed, I’ve helped others kill, and I watched half of my unit blow up right in front of my face.
So when it came time for me to reenlist, I declined.
And then every day that I sat at home while my little brother was overseas on some unknown mission, I felt like I was dying a little inside.
I suspect that Maddox has his own demons that follow him from his time in the Marines. I know he’s highly decorated, but I also know that he suffered the worst out of all of us over there. The kind of shit that sticks to your skin and never, never lets go.
“Are you just going to stand there or do you actually plan on helping me clean up your shit? And where the hell is Cat?”
“Look, Mad, I know it looks bad—”
“Looks bad? This is what you think looks bad? My fucking flat screen is shattered! Want to tell me what in the hell happened?”
“Uh . . . okay.”
He just stands there, his hands on his hips, and waits.
I’m not afraid of much. I’ve stared down the barrels of more guns than I can count. I’ve fought hand to hand with terrorists. I’ve defused bomb after bomb. But looking into the stone-cold depth of Maddox Locke’s soul . . . Yeah, I’m man enough to admit that he scares the ever-loving shit out of me.
Not knowing the best way to even start explaining the clusterfuck of events that led up to the destruction of his pad, I start the best way I can—stuttering. “I . . . Well, you see. I . . . uh.”
He looks at me, his jaw twitching with frustration, his eyebrow cocked, and his nostrils flaring with what I’m sure is pure, unleashed rage. Shit.
“I might have brought a chick home the other night. She may or may not have gotten a little upset when I basically told her to leave.”
“You bought a chick home. To my house? A chick you don’t know? To MY HOUSE!?”
“I know you’re pissed, Mad. I’m sorry. I just . . . forgot.”
“You just forgot?” he mimics. “When you just forgot, did you happen to be swimming in one of these many bottles that I keep picking up off the floor?”