Zane (Inked Brotherhood 3)

Bad news, the voice in my head whispers. More bad news. Don’t listen to it. Drink some more.

I take another swig from the bottle and another. The room is still spinning, and my cell is still blinking. My fingers move of their own accord, tapping on the cell screen and opening the message. Swallowing hard, I bring the phone to my ear.

This message was received yesterday morning, a robotic voice informs me, and then it plays.

“Hello?” A man’s voice I don’t recognize. “Dakota, you said to call here. The hospital gave the final diagnosis…” The line breaks with static. I frown. “…her results came in. I’m afraid the cancer is back. It’s not looking good. They…” The line breaks again. “…come by…”

The line goes dead.

The cell drops from my fingers and smashes to the floor, pieces skittering across the room. I stare at the far wall, not seeing anything. Ugly words are ringing inside my head. Final diagnosis. Cancer is back.

She’s dying. Of cancer. Like Emma.

No. No fucking way. Dakota would’ve told me. I would’ve noticed if she was sick.

Only with Emma I didn’t know until she was hospitalized.

The room spins faster. My stomach roils, and it all comes back up. Bending over the armrest, I lose my—dinner? Something I don’t remember eating—on the floor.

I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand and lean back. My body feels like

a block of ice. I clench my hands, but I don’t really feel them. The light dims.

Shit. Dakota.

I’m losing it, sinking so fast I can’t grab hold of anything. This is it, I think. This is where I lose everything. My breath catches in my throat. If I break down now, I don’t know if anyone can put me back together.

Dakota doesn’t deserve this. She can’t… She can’t die.

“Why?” I lurch to my feet and throw the bottle at the wall. It lands with a satisfying crash. But it’s not enough. Not nearly. “Why her?”

I kick the chairs, grab the ashtrays and hurl them at the walls. Hurl them at my framed drawings, smashing the glass, tearing the paper to shreds. The frames drop to the floor, breaking to pieces.

Still not enough. Not enough destruction.

Lurching back to the table, I grab the other bottle from the bag and unscrew the cap. I drink, swallowing so fast I barely stop to breathe. It doesn’t burn quite as much going down as before. Maybe if I drink enough, it’ll black out my memory, strikethrough my thoughts. Erase everything. Change everything.

Except everything has already changed.

I clench my fingers around the bottle. No. I won’t let anything happen to her. I won’t. Except…

Nothing good ever lasts. You should know this by now.

“No!” I shout at the empty apartment. “I’m not giving up on her! I’m not fucking giving up. I love her.”

I grab the lamp and throw it against the window, lifting my arm over my face as glass rains down. As if it matters.

I love her.

“I won’t lose you, too,” I say into the deafening silence. “I can’t.”

But there’s no answer. There never is. No answer. No miracles. I’m raving and ranting alone, and fate doesn’t give a damn.

So I drink until my stomach turns itself inside out again, and I puke my guts on the floor. And then I drink more. Not sure it’ll be enough.

Or maybe it will. My vision is going blurry, and no matter how much I blink it doesn’t clear. I dimly realize I’ve dropped to my knees. After a while, everything goes black and quiet, and it’s like flying. But I can’t fly, so I guess I must be falling, and it almost feels the same.

Chapter Fourteen