“Okay, are you staying for dinner?” I asked.
“Uh . . .” He glanced back at the stairs, and I could hear Jared pounding down the steps. Madoc turned back to me. “It looks great, actually, but I think we’re heading out.”
“What?”
Jared swept into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “We already ate,” he informed me.
“Jared?” I threw the cloth down, anger creeping up. “I canceled my plans to be home.”
“I should thank my lucky stars.” He tipped back the carton of orange juice, gulping it down.
“That’s enough,” I miffed. “Madoc is welcome to stay, but you are sitting down and eating. You’re not going anywhere.”
He tossed the carton back into the fridge, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Jax called, and he needs me. I’ll be home late.”
Pivoting around without so much as a look in my direction, he headed out of the kitchen, Madoc following close behind.
“You know, you could make an effort here,” I said, not caring that his friend would overhear. “My entire world does not revolve around you.”
Jared laughed. “Did it ever?”
And he opened the door, walking out, and Madoc closed the door behind them.
I stood there, staring at the door and listening to his car engine roar in the driveway before he sped off down the street.
He just left. Like anything I had to say didn’t matter.
God, he hated me. He didn’t even fight with me anymore. He. Just. Didn’t. Care.
I rushed for the freezer, taking out the bottle of vodka inside. The clear alcohol swished in the chilled container like thick oil, and I threw off the top, not seeing where it landed.
I took a swig of the bottle, tears wetting my lashes as I squeezed my eyes shut. He doesn’t hate me.
I took another drink and groaned, savoring the warmth of the alcohol coating my stomach. Tomorrow will be fine.
And I started sobbing, taking gulp after gulp after gulp, because I knew I was lying to myself.
There was no coming back from this.
I dragged my feet into the living room, carrying the nearly empty bottle in my hand, then I collapsed on the couch. The sweet oblivion fogged my brain so much, I saw Jase smiling down at me. He kissed the corner of my mouth, under my ear, and the corner of my eye, whispering in my ear.
“Katherine?”
The world shook, and I jerked, feeling like I was falling.
“Katherine, wake up,” a male voice said, and I felt a fist squeezing my stomach as the nausea rolled like a wave through me.
I shoved at the hands, convulsing. “I don’t feel good. Leave me alone.”
I heard footsteps walk away and then come back before hands grabbed me and flipped me over. Something was shoved into my mouth, and I felt fingers press against the back of my throat. I gagged, feeling the pressure of everything coming up from my stomach as I coughed and heaved.
“No,” I grunted, but it was too late.
Everything I’d drunk came pouring out, and I grabbed the small garbage can in front of me, emptying my stomach, coughing and sputtering as my gut wrenched. The vomit burned my throat, and I heaved again, feeling like someone was twisting a knife into my stomach.
“Oh, my God,” I gasped, wiping my mouth on my sleeve. “What are you doing?”
I coughed, spitting out any remnants from my mouth. Blinking through the tears in my eyes, I finally noticed James, Tate’s dad, standing above me.
“Jared’s been arrested,” he said.
I stopped breathing. “What?” And I scrambled to grab my phone on the end table, swiping the screen to check for messages.
There was nothing. Not even a missed call.
“He called you?” I asked, turning my eyes on him in question. My son didn’t call me?
James simply handed me a towel to clean myself up and walked around me, toward the front door. “I called a judge I know at home. He assigned Jared a bail instead of waiting for court in the morning. Hurry up. I’ll drive you.”
Ten minutes later, we walked into the police station, my gross hair tucked into a ponytail under a baseball hat, and I’d changed out of my vomit-stained clothes and into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
It was past midnight, and James hadn’t been able to tell me how long Jared had been here. He’d left our house around six, I think. Maybe it was earlier? I shook my head, trying to clear away the fuzz and fogginess of the night. The alcohol and the vomiting had wreaked havoc with my balance, and I couldn’t stop the tips of my fingers from buzzing.
The station was quiet and nearly empty, but I spotted Madoc sitting on the chairs. As soon as he saw me, he rose out of his chair.
But I shot out my hand, stopping him. “I don’t want to talk to you. Go sit down.”
His face fell a little, but he sat back down and kept quiet. In all honesty, I knew Jared had most likely gotten himself into this, but the last possible person I wanted to see, other than Jase Caruthers, was his son right now.
Stepping up to the counter, I called to the female officer standing by her desk.
“Jared Trent is my son,” I told her. “Where is he?”
“He’s fine,” she answered, approaching the counter and looking like this wasn’t at all urgent for her. “He’s in the back. Bail is fifteen hundred. Pretty cheap for this, actually.” She sounded unhappy about that. I guess James’s judge friend did us a favor. “You can pay it with the cashier.”