Never Doubt Me: Judge Me Not #2(43)

I cut open the package of hot dogs and put some water on for the corn to boil. After I place the wieners on a plate, I hold them out to Will. When his hand touches the plate, his eyes meet mine. His usually clear green eyes are dark, dilated, and bloodshot.

Quickly, he averts his gaze.

I draw back the plate. “Wait.”

“What?” Will’s eyes dart around the kitchen, all skittish-like.

I touch his shoulder. He has on a thin tee, and I immediately feel how hot his skin is beneath the cotton. “What’d you take?” I ask. “Were you and Jared snorting cocaine?”

Will shakes his head. “No.”

“Please don’t lie,” I whisper. “You know this is killing your brother.”

“It wasn’t coke, okay?” he huffs. “We took some speed.”

“Like, amphetamines?”

“Yeah.”

“From Kyle Tanner?”

Will nods. He reaches for the plate of hot dogs again, and this time, I let him have it. He doesn’t say anything else, just heads out to the back porch. After a minute, I hear him messing with the grill.

I sink down into a chair near the table and pick up an ear of corn.

Damn. I know in my heart that, when Chase finds out Will was buying drugs from Kyle Tanner again, he will go talk to his former dealer. And I hate that I won’t be able to stop him. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that Kyle is bad news—for both Gartner brothers.

Chase walks back into the kitchen just as I’m absently toying with a pile of corn silk on the table.

“I didn’t find anything,” he says. “But I know Will’s on something.”

I watch as Chase walks over to the refrigerator.

When he opens the door, I tell him what Will shared with me. “You’re right, Chase,” I say, sighing. “Will is on something. But it’s not cocaine.”

Chase’s hand on the top of the refrigerator door tightens, but he doesn’t look up. I stand immediately and go to him. I touch his back, rub his shoulders. I’m trying to do anything to make all this awfulness just a little less horrible.

And it works, a little. Chase relaxes slightly. He turns around, and the refrigerator door closes softly.

“What’d he take?” he asks flatly.

“Amphetamines.”

Chase rubs his hand down his face. “Christ.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “We’ll get through this.”

I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, but I know Chase needs some kind of reassurance right now.

And, as I expected, Chase declares, “I have to talk to f*cking Kyle Tanner. Will’s in town for two and a half more weeks. I need to nip this shit in the bud before things get out of hand.”

“I know.” I touch Chase’s chest, the outline of his pecs so defined beneath the cotton. His body is so hard, but his heart is so soft. “Just be careful, okay?”

Chase catches my hand and holds it tightly. “Don’t worry, Kay, there’s not going to be any violence. But I will be making sure I get through to that motherf*cker.”

Despite his trying to soothe my fears, I have a bad feeling. All I know is that Chase calling on Kyle—violence or not—never results in anything good. Last time he spent time with his former drug dealer, Chase ended up drinking, smoking weed, and coming dangerously close to snorting cocaine.

But he has to do this. I know that.

Resigned, I ask. “When are you planning on talking to Kyle?”

“As soon as possible,” Chase says. “In fact, I think I’ll head over to his house tonight.”





Chapter Nine


Chase


I have no desire to pay a visit to Kyle Tanner, but if I don’t talk with him as soon as possible, who knows where shit may land. Will is spiraling fast.

Fuck.

Damn my mother and her selfishness; damn Cassie’s perverted stepfather who can’t control his sick urges; damn Cassie for running to Will every time shit in her own life falls apart. I’m not surprised Will has chosen to turn to the same things I once sought—drinking, drugs. It’s all about seeking f*cking oblivion, dude. You don’t have to deal with shit when you’re f*cked the hell up.

But if Will thinks I’m just going to stand around and watch him fall, he’s sadly mistaken.

In my truck, I tug a flannel shirt on over my T-shirt and then drive away from my house. I travel back to the bad side of town, head down the worn dirt road that leads to Kyle’s house of deeds best forgotten.

It’s early, dusk, so the party has not yet begun. When I get out of my truck, I notice there’s no one around outside the old dilapidated frame structure Kyle calls home. The screen door is propped open, though, so when I reach the small porch on the house, I push open the front door and let myself in.

“Gartner,” I hear Kyle breathe out, along with a very loud exhale of smoke, and then a cough.

I turn toward the living room and find my former dealer reclining on the couch, meth pipe in hand. He lights a flame under the glass bulb, takes a hit, and while trying to hold in his smoke, chokes out, “You want some, man?”

I shake my head and laugh. “No f*cking way.”

Kyle exhales the rest of the smoke from his lungs. His dark, suspicious eyes meet mine. “Whatcha doing here, then, Gartner?”