Rock Bottom (Tristan & Danika #2)(75)

They didn’t move, just staring at me.

“Get the f**k out!” I roared at them. “Just get the f**k out of my room!”

Finally, thankfully, that got results.

I cleaned my room, top to bottom, disinfecting every surface. I gave my bathroom the same treatment, since I was fuzzy on all of the sordid details from the night before.

I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or further horrified when I saw that my wastebasket contained several used rubbers, but least I’d used some form of protection.

I threw up again.

I threw out my sheets. I only had one other set, but I didn’t care. I took them out to the dumpster like the trash they were.

I showered again, brushed my teeth, then went to work some more with the disinfectant wipes.

It was three in the afternoon when I called her.

It went directly to voicemail.

I took another shower.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Would she ever forgive me? Was there any way I could keep it from her? I hadn’t been unfaithful. Not technically, since we’d been very clearly broken up, but a technicality did not alter the way I felt, and the way I felt was wretched. In my heart, I was still married to her.

Would I be able to forgive myself if she’d come here to reconcile, to give me another chance, and I’d trampled over it in my hell-bent path of self-destruction?

That answer was easy to find. No.

I called her, got her voicemail, and cleaned my room again.

This went on for days.

Five days later, I got a phone call from Dean’s mother with news that would change my life.

She threw the details at me too fast for me to understand, her tone almost blank.

“Dead?” I repeated back to her. I hadn’t seen him in days, but that was hardly unusual. I was shocked beyond all comprehension.

Even so, I was not prepared for what came next.

“He had a passenger in the car, too,” she continued, and I thought she must truly be in shock to be acting so calm when her son had just died. “Some girl that worked for your manager, Jerry.”

I was in my room, back to the wall, and I fell against it, sliding to the floor, nearly dropping the phone. “Wh-what did you say?” I asked her, my voice a terrified croak.

“There was a girl in the car with him. The car is totaled, by the way. He’d have had a serious drunk driving charge on his hands, if he’d survived.”

“What happened to the girl? Is she okay?”

“The girl? Oh…did you know her? I’m not sure what happened to her. I didn’t ask.”

I hung up, calling Jerry.

Thankfully, he answered on the third ring.

He answered with, “She’s okay, Tristan.”

Following panic came fury. “Why didn’t you tell me? This was days ago! How could you keep this from me?”

There was a long pause on the other end. “Listen…Tristan…she doesn’t want to see you.”

My free hand reached over to my arm and began to scratch mindlessly at the skin of my other forearm.

Gut roiling, heart twisting, I asked, “She said that?”

“I’m sorry, man. Have to respect her wishes. She seems very resolute.”

“What hospital, Jerry?”

He sighed audibly. “You don’t want to come here, Tristan. It’ll be better if you don’t.”

“Tell me!”

“St. Rose.”

“You said she’s okay, but, was she hurt?”

“She got banged up pretty bad.”

“Tell me.”

“She hit her head pretty hard, got a concussion. She’s still in the hospital, but she should be fine.”

I swallowed hard, still scratching away at my arm. “Anything else?”

“She got cut up on impact some by the debris, but she’ll heal.”

Scratch.

Gouge.

Claw.

“Anything else?”

“Her knee was crushed. She should be able to walk again, eventually, but she’ll have a substantial limp. She won’t be dancing anymore, Tristan.”

My hand moved to my chest, right over my heart.

Scratch.

Gouge.

Claw.

The phone dropped from my hand, but not before the sound of my own sobs bled through to Jerry’s end.

I didn’t last three hours.

I was in my car before I realized that my hand was bloody. I glanced down at my arm and chest, genuinely surprised that I’d scratched myself that badly. I hadn’t felt a thing.

I went back up to my apartment, showered, changed, and headed out again.

It was only on my second run that I saw Danika’s car parked at the curb. I hadn’t left the apartment in days, but it must have been there from the time of the accident.

DANIKA

The news came at me in twisted waves. They gave it to me all wrong, making it hard for me process or understand. It was only as I heard Bev chewing out the doctor that I put some of the pieces together in order.

“That is not how you tell that to someone. If a woman just lost her baby, you do not start by telling her she can’t have any more. I’m a lawyer, you ass, so watch what you say to her, or I’ll sue you for emotional distress.”

That got the doctor the hell out of the room, and Bev was at my ear, stroking my hair, a comfort in a moment where that should have been impossible.