“A burn won’t kill me,” I slur, but the memory of the pain hits me, and I shudder, my whole body shaking. My stomach churns. “Shit.”
“Burn?” Ash leans closer again, and I lean back. Fucker should learn to stay out of my personal space. “Fuck, man, did you stab yourself with your cigarette?”
I feel panic setting in, my heart pounding in my chest. The smell of scorched flesh fills my nose again. “Jesus Christ. Can you…?” I gesture at the burn. Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow hard.
He seems to understand what I need, ’cuz he’s Ash, and he knows I can’t stand burns. “I’ll take care of it.”
He’s gone and back before I realize, holding a tube and a pack of gauze. Where did he get that? Erin, my fuzzy mind says. She must have left her first-aid kit.
Ash rolls up my pant leg and cleans the burn. Shit, it hurts like hell. Ash spreads some cream on the area and slaps a Band-Aid over it.
“Done. You’ll be fine,” Ash says. “Hey, Z-man, can you hear me?”
I nod, because I don’t trust myself to speak yet. I watch him as he puts the tube away and returns with a refilled glass of water.
“How’s your sister, man?”
Bad question. “Fine.”
He sighs. “Seriously, man. Talk to me.”
“She’s fine,” I say stubbornly and snap my mouth shut.
“Have you eaten?” he asks after a long moment. “And I mean solid food, not alcohol.”
Dakota made me breakfast. Something greasy, she’d said. And orange juice. She’d held me. It had felt good. Now she’ll think twice about touching me, because I’m a screw-up, and I fucked up. Couldn’t control myself.
Now she’s not coming back. She’s never coming back, and I need a drink. I try to get up, only to find Ash in front of me—again. “What?”
“Food. Eat. You’re making yourself sick.” He pushes a plate with toast and jam into my face. “You can’t live on alcohol, man.”
“Why, have you ever tried it?”
“Shut the fuck up.” Ash sighs and rubs his hands up and down his face. “Dammit, will you stop being a wiseass for just one moment? I’m trying to help you here.”
“Fuck you, Ash. I don’t need you to save me.” I drop the plate on the table and make as if to stand. Only problem is, the room keeps spinning, throwing me off balance.
“You saved me, but I can’t save you?” Ash folds his arms over his chest. “Does it seem fair to you, asshole?”
“I didn’t save you, dammit.” I brace on the armrest, because the room is spinning faster now, and blackness teases my vision. “That day it was Audrey who found you, not me. I didn’t get that things were so bad at home. I let you down.”
“I don’t mean you saved me on that day,” Ash snarls and gets right back into my face, because Ash can do that and not get punched, although he’s pushing it now. “I mean you saved me every single day. You talked me out of jumping off a cliff a thousand times. Took me in every time dad went on a drinking binge and started hitting me. Went looking for me on the streets whenever you didn’t hear from me for a couple of days. You had my back. You were the big brother I didn’t have anymore. My protector. My fucking family. So don’t you tell me you didn’t save me, and don’t ask me to back off.”
; I blink. I’m so caught off guard I just gape at him. I mean, Ash doesn’t talk much at the best of times, not even on the rare occasions when he’s drunk a beer or two. He also normally doesn’t look like he wants to beat the shit out of me, but he sure does now.
“Have I made myself fucking clear?” Ash snaps.
“Christ, fucker.” I let my eyes close again. “I feel like there’s a troupe of monkeys doing the Riverdance in my skull, so keep it low, okay? I heard you. I’m not responsible for your delusions. If you wanna think I saved your ugly ass, then fine, but be quiet and let me nap.”
“Fuck you, man.”
“Fuck you, too,” I mutter fondly and drift off into uneasy sleep.
Monday is gruesome, as expected. Focusing on the job takes up all of my energy and then some. The headache hammers away at the back of my eyeballs. I think I’m getting accustomed to it. Then again, I only grunt when asked a question and glare at everyone until they go away, so maybe not really.
Ash passes by at one point and starts talking, so I tune him out until he leaves. Then Tyler decides to park his ass inside my booth as I wait for my next customer and talks—about Erin? His son? The weather, for all I care. He gives up and leaves after a while, and I get on with work.