Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“I drank a lot. Did some coke…” I swallowed. “Did more coke, smoked more… And quickly realized I was too poor to maintain a coke habit. So Eric introduced me to cheaper thrills, but they weren’t my jam. He wanted downers, and I craved uppers. His version of parties turned into funerals. He just wanted to sit on a couch and act like a sloth.”
“And you preferred clubs,” he guessed.
I nodded. “Fake ID, Boystown, and ecstasy. At the same time, I had enough self-awareness to know I was spiraling. I knew that if I continued down the path I was on, I’d get stuck. I became kinda grossed out by myself, because in that environment, I saw so much shit, and I did fuck-all to help anyone.” Those memories could still give me guilt trips to this day. Young girls doing anything for a hit, guys trying to prove themselves in front of friends, theft, abuse… “Dad tracked me down at the exact right time,” I admitted. “He was furious. He physically dragged me outta there, slammed me up against a wall, and asked if I wanted a future or not.”
I’d broken down like a fucking baby.
“I never had to spend a night on the streets,” I said. “Dad kicked me out of the house because I was upsetting Ma, but I had friends to crash with. A week here, a month there… And that went on for roughly a year, before Dad found me at a party.”
“Good man.”
“One of the best.” I guessed I’d reached the worst part now. “After that, I…” I exhaled a laugh, even as my stomach churned with unease. “I rebelled again, this time with myself. I got this idea that I needed structure and a good authority figure.”
“Ah. The Army and your attempt to become a cop.”
“Exactly. And then self-defense and some martial arts. I vowed to myself never to look the other way again when a piece of shit should pick on someone their own size.” I shook my head and finished my first piece of toast. My last too. I had no appetite. “I still had a foot in the door of the place I’d left behind. I was trying to get Eric away from drugs and all that shit.”
Back then, I’d had a studio apartment on the edge between the South Side and Evergreen Park, and I’d never forget how Eric played with my hope. He’d made so many empty promises.
“Dad didn’t trust me around the bar yet, but he’d called in a couple favors so I could work elsewhere,” I continued. “I worked part time at Sam’s Club and Mariano’s close to where I lived. Hunting down Eric was also a part-time job, I guess.” I picked up my coffee mug, seeing his intoxicated expression in my mind. How I’d fucking hated it. “Every time I managed to pull him away from one of his parties, he promised to get clean and start fresh. Then when I woke up the next morning, he was gone.”
Eventually, he’d stopped making promises.
Eventually, I’d stopped hunting him down.
Eventually, he’d OD’d and died.
I took a swig of my coffee, but it tasted of old memories.
I noticed Ben was no longer interested in his toast either.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m the reason you’re having nightmares,” he said with a sigh. “I take it Eric’s story didn’t end well.”
“I found out he was dead seven months after he’d been buried,” I confirmed. “And before you give yourself a hard time, you weren’t my boyfriend when you walked out without a word, Ben. I didn’t know you leaving that way was gonna stir up old shit. Besides, I’m not actually sure that’s why.”
He furrowed his brow and glanced my way.
It was time for me to be honest.
I swallowed and set down my mug. “My biggest fear is that’s gonna happen again, and everything’s different now. It would hurt way more.”
Right then and there, I realized I was willing to lay it all out. After weeks—fuck, months—of shitty communication on both our parts, he’d taken the first step today. More than that, he’d been very open in that damn letter. So it was my turn to make myself vulnerable, despite that it scared the shit out of me. Because it was so new. Other than Eric, I’d had one brief relationship, and it’d crashed and burned within a few months. I hadn’t been able to commit as much as he’d wanted, so he’d moved on without telling me for a while.
Ben wasn’t like my pathetic pool of exes. I knew that.
“I’m not going anywhere, Trace,” he told me quietly. “I wish you’d told me, though. We should’ve hashed this out weeks ago. You should’ve let me grovel.”
I shook my head tiredly. It was pointless. “In your shoes, I probably woulda done the same thing.”