5. Weston

My life is in absolute fucking shambles.

It’s been two days since I went to Hunter’s place and I still can’t figure out how he snuck this addiction past me. Between that, the Renee debacle, and the fiasco with Hud after I beat that rookie up in practice, I can’t think straight.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to fix any of it. Not that I’m much of a fixer. These days, I’m more of a drinker. Especially judging by the number of empty beer bottles on the tables and counters, shelves and ledges. My place resembles Hunter’s, minus the pills.

There is so much going on inside of my head. Blame and regret. Questions of friendship and how to handle this one. I need to sort through it. Probably better to do while I’m not wasted, but the ache in my skull is too severe and I just want to deaden it.

For a second, I’m powerfully compelled to talk it out, which goes against everything I am and have ever been. I blame Renee for making me soft like that—although, at the thought of her, I feel a familiar kick in my stomach. Familiar and painful.

But my options for confidantes are pretty damn limited.

Hunter and I talked like we haven’t in years after he woke up again from his drug-induced daze, but he’s not in any fit state to dive into shit yet. I could call Molly, but she’s on a work trip to Italy and with the time difference, it isn’t fair to bother her. And I sure as hell can’t talk to my mom about any of it. It would break her heart. If Hunter wants to clue Mom in, that’s up to him. But I’m not doing it.

There’s always Renee, says an obnoxious, wheedling voice in my head.

She’d listen. She’d get it. She’d understand how to make this all make sense.

Maybe that’s why I find myself floating off the couch and down the hall. I’m doing this for Hunter’s sake—not for my own. That’s what I say to myself again and again. I’m doing this for Hunter. For Hunter, not for me.

I know Renee is long gone. But if anyone knows where she is, it’s Sutton. As I raise my hand to knock, though, the door opens and some pudgy, pompous little prick walks out, still speaking over his shoulder. He looks vaguely familiar, though I can’t quite place him: semi-blond, with designer shoes and wide eyes.

“Hey.” I give him the bro nod, but he doesn’t return it.

He ignores me and turns to Sutton at the door. “The movers will be up in a little while to get her stuff.”

And then he’s gone, brushing past me like I don’t even exist. He smells like old money and pompous asshole. While he struts to the elevator, Sutton looks up at me. “What the hell do you want?”

Her hostility isn’t surprising. I have no idea what Renee told her, but if it’s anywhere near the truth, it’s no wonder Sutton is scowling at me.

“Who”s the yuppie douche?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, not really.” I grimace and crack my knuckles. “Where”s Renee?”

Sutton’s lip twists in a scowl. “Gone.”

“No shit. Where, though?” I’m trying not to lose my cool, trying not to be an asshole. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be successful in either department.

“Why on earth would I tell you that?”

“Because I need to talk to her.”

“Too fucking bad. Probably should’ve thought about that before you acted like an asshat. So, yeah, sorry, big guy. You just missed your chance to convey a message.”

Her glance over my shoulder implies that the douche in the Prada sneakers was the one I should’ve been sending messages with.

“The yuppie? What”s he got to do with anything?”

“You really are dense, aren’t you?” She rolls her eyes “That”s Deacon Carrington. Renee”s ex. Well, her ex-ex. He heard about what happened and decided it was time to put his money where his mouth is. She”s moving in with him today. Rumor has it there”s a big, lovey-dovey reunion on the horizon. Should be in all the society papers. I’ll make sure you get a copy.”

My gut drops into my fucking stomach. No. No fucking way.

But the words coming out of my mouth don”t reflect how I feel. They”re classic Old Weston words. Mean just for the sake of it. Just to see how much more I can destroy. “I see. So she hopped on some rich prick”s dick for a place to live. Nice.”

“Oh, fuck you, Weston.” She says it with such force and such venom I can feel it like a slap on my cheek. “You destroyed her life. You got her kicked out of here, made sure she lost her job. She was fucking arrested. No one will rent to her; no one will hire her. You have no idea what she had to do just to get out of jail. No idea what your stunt cost her.”

“What it cost her? She stole from me!”

“She didn”t, but you don”t care about that, do you? About the truth. Right?”

“Your friend—” I’m about to say something I’ll never be able to take back, but thankfully, Sutton interrupts me before I can.

“My friend is a good person. Maybe we should talk about your friend. The addict.”

My hackles rise up instantly. “What did she tell you?”

Sutton laughs cruelly. “She didn”t need to tell me anything. I have eyeballs and I can see the signs. He”s been doing drugs out of your apartment for years.”

Fuck. Am I the only one who didn’t know? Of course I am.

You’re a fucking idiot, Weston.

“Face it, douchebag: you’re an asshole who hurt her for no good reason. Now, you’re getting what you deserve.” She shrugs and steps back into her apartment, ready to shut the door.

I lay my hand flat against it. “She stole from me, Sutton.”

My words sound weak and stupid to my own ears.

To her credit, she doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Just peels my hand off the door and slams it the rest of the way closed.

An hour later, the whiskey isn’t strong enough and the beer isn’t cold enough. That doesn’t stop me from drinking both until they’re all gone.

I’ve thought over every detail, every single thing that’s ever happened between us and I can’t get past the lie. She lied to me. And she did it even while knowing everything that happened with me and Eva.

Not much difference between a liar and a thief when you really get down to the nitty-gritty.

At some point between Beer #7 and Whiskey #4, Hunter staggers in the door. I look up, not totally sure if he’s real or not. Then he plops face-first onto the sofa, either drunk or stoned or both.

“Hunt. Wake up.” I give him a shove, but he’s already out.

Fuck me.

Well… misery does love company.

By morning, I’m hanging over so far my chin is dragging the ground. My head is throbbing and Hunter is standing at the door, looking out. The noise coming from the hall does nothing to help my headache ease. It annoys the fuck out of me, but I don’t speak. Truth is, I probably can’t.

He turns to look at me. “Movers in the hallway. Sutton moving out now? You run her away, too?”

“Shut the door.” My voice is gruff and angry, raspy and annoyed. Last thing I want to do is watch them take away the final remnants of Renee from the building. Even if it is at my behest.

It’s weird to see a glimpse of cardboard boxes in the hallway. I still remember seeing her with that box in her hand. The bright red flash of her panties on the carpet.

It was the panties that started it all. Those fucking panties. I should’ve never touched them. Sure as fuck shouldn’t have kept them. Soon as I saw them, I should’ve run.

But I didn’t.

And thus, here we are.

“She went back to her ex.” I tell him the story quickly in as much detail as I can bear, which isn’t much.

When I’m done, he shakes his head. He looks pale and haggard, as bad as I feel, but that doesn’t stop him from looking at me with pity in his eyes. “If I would’ve known you were going to lose your fucking mind, I would’ve never said anything. She’s a good person, West. You and I both know that she didn’t steal from you.”

I grimace in disgust and turn away. Hunter, Sutton, my own damn conscience—everyone is screaming at me that Renee is innocent.

I’m the only dumbass clinging to this story.

“So, who’s the guy?” Hunter asks when he sees me wallowing in my own misery.

“Some douche who used to be her boyfriend. Last name’s Carrington.”

Out of nowhere, I remember the look in her eye when she described him to me. Haunted. Terrified.

That’s who I’m dooming her to live with.

She deserves better. Better than him, for sure. Possibly better than me. But I’m going after her.

I can’t leave her there. I won’t.

I grab my keys as I yank Hunter out the door with me. “What the fuck are you doing?” He tries to jerk away, but I’m stronger and I’m not letting go.

“I’m going to get her and I might need backup.”

“Well, shit.” That’s all I have to say for him to fall in line at my side. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”