Finding Me (The Bad Boy Series) (15 page)

"Why the hell would I call you, Georgia?" I spat. "Haven't you got a cock to suck?"

Georgia had been my on/off girlfriend for most of high school. That was until I walked in on her and Gregg Marshall one night after school. She was on her knees, sucking him off. Classy. I wasn't as hurt as I thought I would be; instead, I just laughed and walked away. I never loved Georgia. In fact, most of the time I hated her. But, she was my distraction, from Neva.

"The only cock I want to suck right now is yours, baby."

Ugh. My skin crawled. Did she really just say that? My skin may have been crawling but my damn cock seemed to fucking respond. Get the hell down, you dirty son-of-a-bitch!

"I don't think so, Georgia. Put some clothes on and take your stuck up ass out of here," I said, throwing her blouse at her from the edge of the bed. I had quickly sobered up. The vodka buzz had eased.

"You'll be begging for me once you realize she is too fucked up!" Georgia yelled. She smirked sadistically over her shoulder before walking out of the room, banging the door shut behind her.

The alcohol in my body must have boggled my damned mind. What the hell's going on? Fuck. How did I even get up here? I squinted, trying to get a clearer picture of where I actually was. It's dark, the only light in the room came from the lamp on the bedside table. Then, I spotted the black walls. I was in Ace’s bedroom. Christ.

“Please tell me I am too damn wasted … Or did I just see a barely dressed Georgia walking out of here?”

I turn around, nearly stumbling while doing it, and spot Zane. Asshat One.

“She’s got a nice pair though, dude,” Colt said, stumbling into the room. Asshat Two.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Someone better tell me what the fuck is going on! One minute, we were sitting downstairs watching the football game, and the next thing I know, I'm in a fucking bed with that disgusting snake. What the hell is going on?!” I roared.

My blood was boiling, seemingly sobering me up. My hands were balled into fists by my side. I knew if someone didn’t give me answers, they wouldn’t be walking out of this room, they would crawl.

“Dude, you pretty much started on the vodka when you got here. We told you to chill out, but you told us to, what was it? Oh yeah, ‘shut the fuck up, you nosy piece of shit,’” Zane fired back.

Did I really do that? Jesus. I’m so wasted, I would have probably done anything. Shit.

“That doesn’t explain … THAT!” I growled, pointing at the door Georgia had just walked out of.

“I, uh, shit. That was my fault,” Colt said, raising his hand like a fucking child.

“What do you mean it’s
your
fault?” I shouted.

“Oh shit,” Zane said, looking at his twin. “Dude, we may have shared the same womb, but I ain’t sharing the beat down you’re going to get. I’m out!”

Zane slapped his twin on the shoulder before bolting out of the room.

“Pussy,” Colt muttered under his breath.

I stared at him hard, waiting for him to explain this damned mess. “Explain. Quickly.”

“Ah, shit, man. You were drinking, and looking like the whole fucking word was ending. I just thought …”

“You just thought what? That Georgia could try and fucking replace her? Are you out of your fucking mind?!” I shouted, running my hands through my hair. Jesus, this was a mess.

“Dude, we are worried about you,” he said, taking a step back. “We are
all
worried about you.”

Colt held his hands up in surrender. His brown eyes were searching mine, trying to gauge my reaction. I didn't even know what to say. Right now I just wanted to crumble.

"So you thought Georgia was the answer? What the hell is wrong with you?!" I was seething.

"But you didn't fuck her, man. You still have clothes on!" Colt threw back.

"Colt, I suggest you leave this room before I throw you out of it. Now!" I shouted, taking a step towards him.

Colt must have heard the seriousness in my voice, because as soon as I started to take a second step, he was out the door in
lightning speed. Leaving me in the room with an ache in my chest, and my screaming conscience.

I fucked up. I knew I had. I didn't even remember missing the end of the football game, never mind hitting the vodka. Where the hell was everyone? I could still hear the pounding of the music downstairs. Ace said this would just be a night to chill out, but it's clear it turned into a house party. I tried to get my bearings as I stumbled around the room. Christ, my head. Everything sounded louder than it really was, knocking me completely off balance.

I landed on my ass with a hard thud. "Shit" The hard floor meeting my ass sent a wave of nausea through my body. My stomach rolled and it's taking every sliver of energy I had left to keep my stomach from contracting. I couldn't throw up. I knew if I did, I'd more than likely pass out. I needed to get home.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes. What the fuck are you doing on the floor?"

I lifted my head. Fuck, that hurt. Trying to focus, my eyes landed on Ace. He was clearly buzzed. His eyes were glassy and the red lipstick marks on his cheek gave it away.

"Shut up, douchebag. Help me up," I muttered.

Ace rolled his eyes. Placing his beer on the bedside table, he walked over and hauled me up with ease. The room spun a little, shooting another wave of nausea through my body. Shit.

"Dude, if you throw up in my room, I swear I will make you eat it." Ace chuckled, throwing my arm over his shoulder.

He may have been laughing, but I wouldn't put it past him to do it. 

"Shut up and walk," I grumbled.

He chuckled as he walked me down the staircase, and we stumbled down the last couple of steps before falling into the wall at the bottom.

"Dude, Tate is still here. He hasn't drunk anything. Let's see if he can take you home. Otherwise you can sleep in the tub." Ace laughed.

I muttered some choice cuss words under my breath. It seemed Ace was a fucking comedian. I stopped walking and shrugged Ace off.

"I can walk you know," I slurred. "Sort of."

I could hear Ace laugh behind me as I stumbled into the living room. Ace's stereo system was blaring some shit out of the speakers, while a couple of people danced in the middle of the room. Colt, Zane and Tate sat on the sofa, laughing about some shit, while Ace stumbled in the room and turns up the music. My ears rang with the volume change. I needed to get home, I needed to sleep this off.

             
"Tate!" I shouted, trying to catch his attention.

             
He looks up from his seat, and stares me down. Shit. Does he know about Georgia? No, he couldn’t do. Could he?

             
“You’re drunk.”

             
Those are the only words that leave his mouth before he stood. He walked over, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and dragging me out of the house. I didn't have any brain to hand coordination to even fight him. I couldn’t even protest with all the alcohol swirling around my brain.

             
“You! You are disgusting!” Tate shouted as he pushed me with the hand latched on my shirt. “Do you have any fucking idea what you’re doing?”

             
I’m too shocked to speak, but it’s not like I could anyway. Tate was pacing in front of me, and all I could do was watch with my damn mouth hanging open. Never, in all the time I have known him, has he lashed out. Tate was the quiet one, the decent one. But now, this is someone new. He looked like he was about to go over the edge.

             
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

             
He was still pacing. Jesus. This night was becoming one big clusterfuck.

             
“What’s wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you? Do you know how much it would kill Neva, knowing that you are so damn wasted you can barely stand? Let alone getting into bed with the woman who has hated her since high school?!”

             
Oh shit.

             
“Tate, I am not trying to fucking hurt her. I didn’t sleep with Georgia. I don’t even remember drinking the damn vodka!” I yelled back.

             
“You hurt her without even fucking trying, Logan. Not only are you hurting her, you’re hurting me. When was the last time you saw me drunk? Hmm?”

             
“That time … No, at the …”

             
Then it dawned on me. Tate doesn’t really drink. He never has. Sure, he has had a beer or two, but he has never once been wasted. He has always been the DD. He was always the one who looked out for us all when we got so blind drunk that we couldn’t even walk.

             
“Can’t think of any can you?” he said, raising his right brow. “I don’t drink because of what I saw, Logan. I don’t drink because of what I had to watch. So, maybe the next time you want to drown your fucking sorrows at the bottom of a bottle, you’ll remember that.”

             
I swayed slightly on the spot, watching as by best friend hit me with memories that were buried with Brandon. They all came flooding back.

             
Brandon had died. Tate’s mom was a mess, completely heartbroken. They had been high school sweethearts, utterly made for each other. But a part of Lorena had died that day with her husband. The bills had gone unpaid, the laundry was stacking up and the house was a complete mess. It was becoming abundantly clear that Lorena wasn’t grieving normally. Tate was so young. He and Neva had lost a father that day, but in turn, lost their mother in the weeks following.

             
“You remember,” Tate said.

             
The expression on my face as I remembered must have been clear to Tate, he could see the remorse.

             
The final straw came when a bailiff knocked at the door, handing a young Tate a final notice. He may have been young, but he was far from stupid. He needed to snap his mom out of it, and get her back. But nothing could prepare him for what he saw that day. Nothing could prepare him to find his mom in her bedroom the way he did.

             
“I’m sorry,” I said truthfully.

             
I was sorry. My mind was so focused on Neva that I neglected my best friend. Forgetting he had been through the same trauma, and then some.

             
“I know,” he said solemnly. “Get in the truck. I’ll take you home.”

             
The ride back to campus was eerily silent. Tate didn’t once take his eyes off of the road. I’m not surprised, I didn’t think I could look at me either. I had fucked up, big time. By the time we pulled up at campus, it was 2am. The night had slipped by and I had been in an alcohol freaking coma for most of it.

             
The minutes ticked by slowly. Neither of us had moved to get out of the truck. The words that had yet to be spoken hung in the air, building the tension between us.

             
Tate sighs heavily before turning to me. “I’m trusting you. I’m trusting you to understand that she doesn’t need this right now. Go inside and sleep it off. We will talk tomorrow. There are some things I need to tell you.”

             
I nodded. I didn’t even try to ask him what he needs to tell me. I fucked up enough tonight.

             
Opening the door, I climbed out of the truck. I smiled tightly at Tate before walking into the building. Tate wasn’t coming back to the dorm tonight. He was probably staying with Low.

             
After negotiating two flights of stairs, I finally made it into the room. I toe off my shoes before landing on my bed fully clothed. I needed sleep to consume me fast, otherwise my thoughts were with her. They were always with her.

Chapter Sixteen

Neva

            
 
“So, you have forgiven him?” Dr. Marsh asked, pulling some invisible lint from her sharp suit before looking me in the eye.

             
“Yeah, I think so,” I said.

             
I had told Dr. Marsh about Viv's visit, about what made me decide to forgive him. To be honest, I'm still not sure why I forgave him. But, I knew that if I didn't, it would fester and I would come to blame it all on myself.

             
“You’re going back to college tomorrow.” It’s a statement, but she tactfully wraps it into a question.

             
“Yeah.” I nodded. I hadn’t said much in our sessions of late. The visit with Viv had completely thrown me, pushing me three steps back.

             
“Do you think he will be there?” she asked.

             
Who, Angel? Why would she ask? We both knew he's no longer attending college, at least in this town. I had received a formal letter from the college a couple of days ago, informing me that Angel Walker had had his education at the college terminated. It went on to state that he hadn’t been in since the day his father had attacked me.