His long-winded lesson was often repeated.
And now here she sat. Waiting for the first man she imagined as a boyfriend, and she has to wait until he wakes up from a bender? Being passed out was kind of gross. She found solace in cleaning up his slovenly, uninhabitable apartment.
She could not, however, feel like this. Or do this again. There was little doubt of that for her.
How could this be Jim?
Her stomach hurt. Nothing sounded appetizing to eat. Sighing, she rose to her feet and stepped out into the corridor. Carlos was on her detail today. “I’m staying over for the night. You should call in for relief.”
“Thank you for the heads-up.”
“Do you tell anyone where I am currently located?”
“No. Just whoever is replacing me.” He hesitated. “Eric will know though.”
“Yeah. I figured that. Can you pass along that it’s private and lie about where I am?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She sighed, tired of dealing with her father’s fame today. “Kayla. Please. I’m not a ma’am yet.” Then she smiled when he laughed and nodded.
Stepping back inside, she was guiltless now as she dropped to the couch, clutching the throw pillow to her stomach and leaning her head back on the armrest. The very same spot where Jim was first drunk with her. Then he showed her he was not at all like she ever thought. So why would that change now?
Depressed, she closed her eyes to the hot tears and hurt as she started to worry over what that must mean.
Why did it hurt so much to realize he might have a problem, an addiction, she could not sign up for or deal with? She knew the ropes and refused to sentence herself or be imprisoned by it. Its unpredictability. Its sickness. Its endless cycle. Its constant apologies. Then it all starts again. The helplessness and hurt of a behavior she didn’t cause or want. And the hurts and emotions of the unintended consequences. No. Nope, she could not do this.
The heaviness settled over her in a deep depression.
Jim Zavarian wasn’t anything like she thought or hoped. Her initial impression that he was awesome and exciting and amazing to discover was so wrong. Turned out to be the opposite.
Chapter 12
JIM ROLLED OVER AND something burst, exploding deep inside his brain. His stomach heaved as he leapt from bed, stumbling blindly through the fog of his head. Dizziness overtook him and he rushed to the toilet. Sighing with relief, he got there in time. Thank God. He leaned over the porcelain bowl, heaving the last drop of moisture from inside his body.
Damn. That hurt. He stayed there for a prolonged time, to be sure he was done. His head split with an ache like a cleaver was hacked through it. Rising up, he had to hold onto the counter to steady himself as the sudden movement made his head spin. It seemed as if the ground were attacking him although nothing really moved. He shut his eyes to dismiss the sensation but that didn’t stop it. Groping for the sink, he found it and ran the water for a while. He splashed cold water on his face and into his mouth before spitting out the vile concoction that was setting up residence in there. Feeling around for the bottle or glass or whatever was close by, he paused when his hands felt a smooth and very empty counter.
Opening his eyes finally, he shut the water off.
What the hell?
His counter was spotlessly clean. Not a thing was on it. He frowned as he glanced down. Clean?
He entered his bedroom and blinked. His head was spinning and he must have been seeing things. Yeah, of course.
Hallucinating. He needed another drink to steady his nerves, and yank his brain from this loop. Maybe he could jolt it back into working. He almost fell before crashing into his dresser, where he dropped to his knees and opened the bottom drawer. Relief washed through him. Soon… wait… what in the hell?
The drawer was completely empty. Was he still hallucinating? He stared at it in disbelief before finally putting his hand inside to feel around. Why couldn’t he find it? Where did it go?
He glanced around. Where did all of his stuff go? What the hell? He pressed against the pain in the middle of his forehead before a voice startled the living shit out of him.
“It’s all gone.”
He didn’t look up. Frozen, he kept his gaze pinned on his knees.
Kayla.
Her voice was permanently ingrained in his brain. Her tone was cool, soft and sad. Judgmental perhaps.
“Why?”
Her feet were in the doorway. How long was she standing there? Why did she clean his place? Why would she take away his alcohol?
“So you couldn’t do what you just tried to do.”
He sighed. His head hurt way too much for a conversation. He couldn’t even muster the energy to get angry at her. He got up and returned to his bed, curling onto his side and moaning as his head pounded incessantly. It felt like a bull horn was being rammed into it. His stomach heaved and Kayla’s voice was way too loud.
A hand touched his shoulder, rubbing it gently. “You don’t deserve my sympathy.”
She slid into bed beside him and wrapped her arms around him.
Jim was shaking with pain and very cold so she pulled the covers over them. It helped. Using her body warmth, she tried to radiate some heat into him and soothe his involuntary shakes. There were so many things to say. To atone for. Responsibilities he forgot and ignored but now he was paying a hefty price for. The knowledge that he’d been caught didn’t even register. Imagining the mess that Kayla must have found him in, and cleaned up? Did she really? Before or after getting rid of his stash? That much alcohol cost a lot
