He could almost see Summer’s curious smile through the phone. “Very cute. Okay, fine. I’ll put in a good word for you with management, but your best friend demands to know what’s going on with you and why you sound so winded.”
“It’s a long story.” Trent leaned forward and let his forehead rest on the open cabinet door. “And I’m too exhausted to tell it right now.”
“But you are okay? You didn’t say you were sick. Is it Bishop?”
“No.”
“Mike?”
“No.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “Did you and Wood…?”
Trent rolled his eyes. Women and their damn intuition. “It’s not like what you think. I’m not sure what’s going on with my roommate, but I need to be here.”
“Trent. I’m a little worried, hon.”
“Don’t be. It’s fine. I got this. I just have to… I gotta. Sometimes a person needs to know they’re not alone, Summer. And if I leave for nine hours, then I know he’ll—”
“Don’t say anything else. Take as much time as you need. I’ll even get a temp from the agency if I have to. It’s flu season, so that’s what I’ll tell any of the big guys from the office if they make a drive-by, okay.”
“Also if Bishop calls or comes up to the site, cover for me with him too.” Trent felt his shoulders sag in relief. “I owe you.”
“Boy, you say that so much, I’m beginning to think you’ll never be able to repay.”
“True dat.” Trent yawned.
“All right, little brother. I guess I’ll trust that you know what you’re doing. But call me if you need me, okay?”
“Yeah. Got it.”
“Love you, bighead.”
Trent smirked, his chest feeling a little lighter. “Yeah, back atcha.”
Trent didn’t feel like dealing with the extra questions Bishop would have, so he texted him instead and told him that Wood had the flu and not to come over, he’d call him back.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Wood
Wood didn’t move. He remained as still as possible in the depths of wherever this place was he’d found. There was only blackness and cold, like the kind of frigid chill he’d felt when he visited the SeaWorld Antarctic exhibit. The kind that seeped down deep in his bones and chilled him to his core. He could hear sounds and feel movement around him, but it was muffled, distant, and the voice in his ear sounded like a far-off echo.
“How the self-righteous have fallen,” his father would say.
Wherever Wood was it felt like the safest place to be. He’d sunk so low until his mind was shielded from the hopelessness and the humiliation.
“Wood. Wood. I have water.”
There it was again. That voice, that smell, trying to reach where he’d hidden. No. Wood wasn’t letting anyone in, and he was never coming out. Screw the world, screw trying to make his life into anything after he’d done nothing to deserve one. He hadn’t atoned for his wrongdoings. He needed to repent and be forgiven. But how could he when his victims wouldn’t let him?
“Wood. Please.”
Wood tried to get away from that sound, from the persistence in that voice that kept getting stronger and louder. Instead of running toward it, Wood buried down further. If he didn’t allow anyone in, he’d never have to see the vile disgust in people’s eyes when they found out the truth about him. Liquid ran down his face, but he didn’t care. He didn’t even know if it was hot or cold.
Yes, this was perfect. This was where he’d stay.
Trent
Trent held Wood’s head a bit higher and put the cup back to his dry lips. “Open your damn mouth and drink this.” He gripped Wood’s chin and tried to force the water down his throat, but all Wood did was allow it to dribble out the side of his mouth. Trent sat there staring into Wood’s blank eyes, feeling this was worse than when he was drunk and belligerent.
“You’re scaring me, goddamnit. You hear me?” Trent whispered close to Wood’s ear. He set the cup to the side and turned Wood’s face toward him. His roommate just let himself be manipulated and prodded, never trying to move on his own, didn’t blink and acknowledge that he heard what Trent was saying either. “New damn rule, Wood. Number… number.” Shit, he had no clue what number he’d written so many in the short time they’d lived together. “I don’t know what one we’re on, but you’re not allowed to scare me, all right? I don’t do good with being afraid.”
Wood wasn’t speaking, he wasn’t shivering, swallowing, he was barely blinking.
“Come back. I know it’s quieter, more peaceful where you are now… I’ve been there, Wood. And there’s no one there to judge you, right? Your own solitary confinement. I know you’ve buried down deep, and you’re all alone and it feels so damn good. But you can’t stay there because that place will turn on you too. You hear me? You gotta come back.”