“It was my fault.”
Most people have a tendency to blame themselves when preventable tragedies happen to someone we care about.
Doesn’t mean it’s true.
“No, it wasn’t,” I remind him. “You weren’t the one driving.”
In the window’s reflection, I see pure agony slash his face. “Yes, I was.”
His confession makes the room spin.
So many thoughts—followed by even more questions—zip through my head, but I clamp my mouth shut.
He’s finally talking and I don’t want to give him a reason to stop.
The veins in his forearm flex as his grip tightens around the bottle of vodka. “But I was so high I ended up pulling over.” A gut-wrenching noise escapes him. “Josh told me he was fine to drive back…but he wasn’t. I knew he wasn’t because we’d been partying together most of the night.” He expels a shaky breath. “Hell, the fucker had just snorted a line of heroin off the dashboard.”
Broad shoulders sag with what looks like the weight of the world. “I was too fucked up to care, though, so I handed him the keys and switched places with him.” His voice dips. “Didn’t even put up a fight.”
I rack my brain, attempting to think of something that might alleviate his guilt…but I come up empty.
“When I woke up, Josh was still alive. He even cracked a joke.” He grips the back of his neck with his free hand. “The car was fucked, but at least we survived, you know?” Sorrow laces his tone. “Then I watched him die.”
My chest tightens as I process what he’s saying.
I can’t imagine how awful it must have been to see his friend alive one second…only to watch him die the very next.
No wonder he still has nightmares.
No wonder he’s been stuck in such a downward spiral.
Phoenix takes a lengthy sip from the bottle. “I didn’t realize we hit another car until after Storm pulled me out of ours.”
I remember the reporter mentioning it was a two-vehicle accident on the news that night, but he didn’t give any details about who was in the other car…aside from citing they didn’t make it.
His hands clench into fists. “The woman we hit was only a year older than me.” The muscles in his back tense and coil. “She was pregnant…and her four-year-old son was in the back seat.”
A sharp pang spreads throughout me as he continues.
“She was on her way to clean a house but couldn’t find a babysitter, so she decided to take her son with her to work because she needed the extra money and couldn’t afford not to.” His shame is so palpable it nearly brings me to my knees. “Her mom said she was a huge fan and listened to us all the time.”
An excruciating sound fills the room. “They had their whole lives ahead of them.”
I wince when he launches the bottle against the wall. “But I ruined that.”
He whips around to face me and his expression makes my throat close.
He’s utterly wrecked.
Those dazed blue eyes lock on mine and his voice cracks like the broken glass on the carpet. “I’m exactly like him.”
No. His father was a drunk who beat the shit out of his kid.
While Phoenix is far from a saint and God knows he’s done some terrible things, the reason he’s stuck in this self-destructive vortex is because he’s consumed with guilt over a mistake he made.
That alone proves he’s nothing like that man.
“Come here.”
Grief steals over his features as he staggers over.
Peeling the comforter back, I help him into bed.
Peering down, I sweep my finger over the crest of his sharp cheekbone. “Mistakes don’t define who someone is, Phoenix. It’s what you do after that does.”
I’m about to leave, but his fingers wrap around my wrist. “Stay.”
God, there’s so much pain contained in that single word.
Ignoring all the reasons I shouldn’t, I crawl into bed beside him.
Exhaling a shaky breath, he rolls onto his stomach. “The moment I got behind the wheel, I signed their death warrant.” His next words are muffled against the pillow. “The world thinks I’m a god…but I’m in hell.”
Sometimes there’s nothing you can say to make it better. No words of comfort or solace you can give to make it hurt a little less.
Sometimes the only thing you can do is be there…so they aren’t alone.
Gently, I run my fingertips up and down his bare back, hoping to lull him to sleep.