In the Middle of Somewhere (Middle of Somewhere, #1)(122)

“I’m here, baby,” he says, and he pulls me into a hug, rubbing my back. I’m so embarrassed. I feel like a little kid, doing this in front of everyone. Jesus, I don’t even know Christopher. I pick my head back up. Ginger is walking Christopher to the door.

“I’m sorry,” I say to him, but he shakes his head and waves me off like it’s nothing.

“Feel better,” he says, and he pecks Ginger on the cheek and leaves.

Ginger walks over to me.

“I’m going to check on the shop,” she says. “You’re okay here?” I nod.

The door closes behind her and I look at Rex.

“Sorry,” I say, confused. The tears are still running down my cheeks, but I don’t feel like I’m crying. I feel like I’m leaking.

Rex shakes his head, then pulls my face to his and kisses my lips softly.

“Do you think I should call Colin?” I ask.

“What do you think?” Rex says.

“I don’t think he would talk to me. He never has. But… I don’t know. What if he… what if… you don’t think he’d hurt himself, do you?”

Rex is immediately alert.

“What makes you say that?”

“I… don’t know. I just had this feeling like maybe he’s tried it before. But I don’t quite remember.”

“It can’t hurt to call,” Rex says, proving he’s never tried to call Colin before.

I fish my phone out and find Colin’s number. It rings and rings, but I hang up before his voice mail comes on.

“You don’t want to leave a message?”

“I don’t know what to say.” But my finger is hitting redial anyway. This time, I leave a message. “Colin, it’s Daniel.” I pause, not knowing what to say beyond this point. “I, um, I kind of wanted to talk to you about some stuff. But, I don’t know. Maybe not. About today, I mean. And maybe always? Um. Anyway, call me if you want. Or not. Okay, bye.” I hang up the phone, roll my eyes at myself, and drop the phone on the coffee table in disgust. Rex pats me on the back awkwardly; not even he is able to pretend that wasn’t the dumbest message ever.

I retrieve my glass from the floor and pour a finger of bourbon into it. Ginger knocks tentatively at her own door.

“Come in,” I say, and swallow the bourbon, sinking down onto the couch.

“You okay?” she asks. I nod, suddenly irritated to be here instead of in my own bed. Well, really Rex’s bed. My bed sucks.

“So Colin’s gay, huh,” Ginger says. “What in the f*ck is the world coming to?”

I just shake my head. I feel woozy.

“Will you put Patty Griffin on again?”

“Sure,” Ginger says.

When she sits back down, I reach for the bourbon and pour us each another.

“You guys are my favorite people,” I say. “Thanks for being with me at the funeral today.” I miss my mouth when I take a sip, my lips weirdly numb, and spill.

“Shit,” I mutter, and pull my T-shirt off with one hand, swiping at my chest with it.

Ginger eases the cup from my hand and puts it on the coffee table.

“Hey!” I protest weakly.

“Daniel,” she says, leaning forward to look me in the face. “I love you more than anyone in the world. You’re my favorite person too. I just wish you didn’t have to be wasted to say it.” She gives a meaningful head toss in Rex’s direction.

“I don’t,” I insist, trying to figure out whether it’s true or not.

“I know it’s a terrible day,” she goes on. “I’m not judging. I just… you get that your brothers are drunk all the time, right? You get that your dad was drunk all the time? I just don’t want you to go back to a place you can’t crawl out of. You know?”

My head is pounding. I know she’s right. But I’ve actually been doing really well since I moved to Michigan. I guess not working at a bar helps.

“I’m gonna crash,” I say, and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. She and Rex are talking quietly when I come out.

“Daniel,” Ginger says quietly. “Are—”

“We’re fine,” I say. I scrub my hands over my eyes. “I know,” I say, answering her earlier question. “I know and I don’t want to be like that. I’ve been doing good lately, I promise.” Then I drag myself over to the bed and fall in, my head spinning. It feels like I sink all the way down. I try to kick my pants off, but only get one leg out before the room starts spinning.

After a few minutes of breathing deeply, the room stills and Rex gets into bed. When he lifts the covers, he sees the state of me and huffs out a breath. He untangles me from my pants and drops them over the side of the bed, then gathers me to his chest and strokes a warm hand up and down my spine.

“Sorry, Rex,” I say. “Didn’t mean to be so terrible today.”

“You weren’t, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

“I threw up and got in a fight at a funeral ’n made you walk in the cold ’n got drunk,” I slur into his neck. His hand feels so good it’s melting my spine. I can practically feel myself slumping into liquid on top of him, dripping down to fill in any empty spots.

“I’m sorry you threw up,” he says, and that makes me start to laugh, only it comes out wrong and Rex pulls me tighter to him.