In the bathroom, she none too gently dropped him on the floor. The tile was cool against his cheek. His skin felt on fire. “Wha…didya…give me?”
“Xanax. And I didn’t give it to you. You were so distraught over your fight with your wife, you came in here, found my prescription, and took too many.” Alicia pulled a pill bottle out of her pocket, opened it, and put it in his hand. His fingers wouldn’t close around it, and the pills scattered across the floor. She stepped back. “Unfortunately for you, I won’t realize it until Dylan gets home. By then, it’ll be too late.”
He pushed himself up to his hands and knees, wobbled, and crashed back to the floor. Pain thundered through his head as it bounced off the tile, and the room wavered. He flopped to his back, stared up at the wife of his best friend, a woman he’d known for close to fifteen years. And all he could think was…
“Why?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t let anyone see our books or they’ll know I’ve been laundering money through the company. Dylan—” She paused, seemed to gather herself. “He has a gambling problem. You didn’t know that, did you? I’ve done my best to keep it quiet, but he was in trouble. A lot of trouble with the wrong people. So I made a deal to keep him safe, but then you started this whole thing with Irving James… I knew I was about to be exposed. I thought blackmail would stop you, but that didn’t work. Then I gave the pictures to Lena, knowing she’d try to ruin you with them, but that doesn’t seem to have worked either. So now, you have to commit suicide because if you’re dead, Dylan will have control of the company and there will be no deal.”
“Already no deal,” he tried to say but it came out garbled. He tried again, enunciating, “No. Deal.”
“What?” Alicia knelt down, turned her ear close to his mouth. “What did you say?”
He fleetingly thought about biting her, chomping down on her earlobe, but that wasn’t going to help him get away from the crazy bitch when he couldn’t move. “There’s. No. Deal. I… ended it. Last…night.”
“Oh God.” She reeled backward, tripping over her own feet and slamming into the wall. “Oh God.”
“I’sokay. Call amble—ambulance. We’ll forget this.”
“I can’t. They’ll arrest me. I’ll lose Dylan. He—he doesn’t know about any of this. He’ll hate me.” She shook her head hard, strands of dark hair escaping her ponytail. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t lose him.”
Alicia fumbled for the door. Just before it shut, she looked at him again, and he thought he saw real regret in her eyes. Or maybe that was only the Xanax blurring his vision.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was only trying to protect Dylan.”
And the door shut.
Reece drifted somewhere between wakefulness and unconsciousness. His thoughts scattered and blurred, but every once in a while, one would pop back into sharp focus.
Shelby.
If he died here, he’d never see her again and, Jesus, he wanted to. If he died here, he’d never be able to apologize.
He made another attempt at pushing to his hands and knees. Got up and wobbled there, but didn’t go down.
Progress.
Now he had to get some of the drug out of his system before he passed out or he was toast.
The toilet was about a foot in front of him and he dragged himself over, pulled himself up. Leaning over the bowl, he jammed a finger down his throat. His gag reflex kicked in, his stomach emptied. He gagged until there was nothing left, until his throat was raw and his stomach spasmed with cramps.
Body heavy, he slid to the floor again, the tile a wonderful relief to the internal combustion going on inside him. Fire blazed just under his skin even as shivers wracked his body. There was a sudden burst of noise, but he couldn’t pinpoint where it was. What it was.
Didn’t matter.
He had to focus, stay awake.
Shelby.
Yes. Had to focus on her. She was his wings. She helped him fly when he hadn’t even known he could.
And he loved her. No matter what she’d done, he would always love her.
Light pooled around him, and there she was, hovering over him, her face streaked with tears, her hands cool on his cheeks.
He must be hallucinating. Dying. Still, he reached up for her, and her hand closed around his. She felt so real. She had to be real.
Her lips were moving, but her voice sounded far away. “Reece. Reece, can you hear me?” When she blinked, he felt the saltwater of her tears splash against his face.
Wait.
She was real.
“Shelby?”
“Yes, I’m here. We’re here, and the paramedics are on their way. So hang on, Hershey.”
His head lolled, heavy on his neck. There was something he needed to say to her. He mustered every drop of energy he had and wrangled his tongue into submission. This had to come out clearly. She had to know…
“I love you,” he managed. “Stay with me. Please.”
And then he drifted away.
Chapter Twenty-Nine