Shatter (Seaside 3)

“I don’t care if she has him on her side! It’s ridiculous and you know it! You know how screwed up this is. And it’s not my fault that the details are blurred!”

What happened? I told myself not to jump to conclusions. I knew Alec. He was even-tempered, calculated, and sometimes indifferent. He thought before he acted. He was always in control. He was way, way more mature than me.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a prescription bottle. Shit, not this again. I picked it up and read the label, exhaling as I looked over the familiar brand.

He was back on antidepressants.

Bad sign.

The minute the bathroom door opened I held up the incriminating pill bottle and threw it at his chest. “What the hell?”

“Hi to you too,” Alec said in a hoarse voice. “Snooping I see.”

He moved to the desk where he had strategically laid out his reading glasses, guitar picks — all in color-coded order starting with date of use — and lastly, his pills. To say that he was a control freak would be putting it mildly. He was addicted to order the way I was addicted to… well, used to be addicted to getting high, so let’s just go with taffy for now, or Alyssa, maybe sex. I knew he was in a bad place if he was strategically counting each pill in the bottle to make sure he had taken one.

I waited for him to stop counting before saying, “It’s not snooping when it’s out for everyone to see, including your super-paranoid girlfriend who just happens to be the daughter of a shrink. If she sees that many milligrams she’s going to flip her shit, and you know it.”

Alec set the pill bottles in his nightstand and cursed. “I just. I—”

“What? What did you do?”

Bitter laughter bubbled out of him. “What didn’t I do? That should be the question.”

“Not following.”

“I didn’t do a damn thing. Not technically.”

“What’s technically?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer. “And when did this happen… technically?”

“You don’t even know what we’re discussing.” Alec cursed and jerked open his dresser. Again color coded. He pulled a shirt over his head and tugged on some jeans.

I shrugged. “Sure I do. Someone’s blackmailing you. You threatened to kick them out of Hollywood which sounded super cheesey, FYI, and you’re back on your pills, all because you technically didn’t do something.”

Alec swallowed and looked away. “Right.”

“Dude.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Since when is two million dollars and enough antidepressants to kill an elephant not a big deal?”

“Since I said it isn’t,” he snapped.

I tried a different tactic. I walked over to him and put my arm around his shoulder, bro-love style. “How can I help?”

Alec laughed sadly. “What? You Superman now?”

“I was thinking Spiderman, but Superman does have x-ray vision…” I smirked and thought of Alyssa. Down boy.

“You can’t fix this, Demetri.” Alec’s voice caught as he said my name and looked down at his shaking hands. “Nobody can.”

“Not even you?”

He swallowed slowly before lifting his gaze to meet mine. “Not even God.”

“Oh.”

“Right.” He snorted. “So, thanks, but no thanks. I’ll burn in Hell by myself. I’d die before I took my little brother with me. I’ve already done enough to you.”

“And what about Nat?”

Wordless, he got up from the bed and cursed. “Angels don’t belong with demons.”

Well, so much for the movie quote game, I could have rocked him on that one. Instead the rage-aholic slammed his hand against the door and cursed.

“It’s too late anyway.”

“But—”

Alec held up his hand. “I’ll figure it out. I always do, right?” There was that damn forced smile again. I couldn’t fix it. I could only nod my head and hope to God that he wasn’t going further into the rabbit hole. I knew depression. I knew drugs. I knew anxiety, and I knew that look on his face. Shit, I knew it as well as I knew my own name.

Unless you had help, there was no happy ending.

Chapter Four

Alec

I needed to get away from Demetri and his constant chipper attitude. It wasn’t making me feel any better, or any less guilty about the conversation I’d just had.

What type of person did that make me? If I was willing to screw the world and protect my own ass. What if by protecting myself I was protecting Nat? What if by protecting myself, paying people off, and ignoring all the shit, I was protecting Demetri? I couldn’t do that to him again. Seriously? What the hell was wrong with me? There’s no way I could have known, but still.

I felt a headache coming on.

I grabbed the keys out of my pocket and ran down the stairs to meet Nat. She was sitting by Angelica on the counter. I winked and held out my hand. “You ready?”

She frowned. “You okay?”

“Of course!” I nearly yelled. My voice cracked. Great. I was officially the worst actor on the planet. “Hey…” I pulled her into my arms and kissed her forehead. “Don’t frown, you’ll get wrinkles.”

“Not helping.” She laughed and immediately the tension and guilt dissipated. Her. I needed her. As long as I had Nat, as long as she never found out what a grade A ass**le I was. We’d be okay. Visions of losing myself in her, of making her scream out in pleasure filled my head. She was my drug. She numbed the pain, as sick as it was to admit.