Chapter Thirteen
Rogue
It felt as if I’d just closed my eyes to sleep then I’d opened them just as quickly. I squinted my eyes in the light flowing into the room. I’d be tempted to go into Claire’s room and sleep there, but I found the guestroom just as comfortable as her bed. The light in this room wasn’t as much as hers, and instead of her white deco, this room was more sensible in dark brown and blue colors.
My eyes were a bit sensitive because I was hung over, but I got over it quickly and pushed myself up.
“Ugh,” I groaned as I slipped out of bed carefully, my stomach swaying, feeling a bit dizzy.
Dammit, I’d made a mistake. I’d drunk so much, and I’d missed breakfast, too. I felt a bit nauseous, so I didn’t think I could handle eating, either, and I needed a quick way to get the alcohol out of my system. Shit, there was only that, and it was the most disgusting thing ever, but I would need it.
“First, shower,” I muttered to myself, my nose wrinkling as I became aware of my stink.
I tossed my clothes off. This bedroom had a second door inside it, and I took a chance to check it out and saw it had a bathroom, too. I wondered how much it cost Claire to live in an apartment this fancy, and if she lived all by herself. From what I’d seen, there hadn't been anyone else living there, at least.
Come to think of it; I should be thankful she wanted to take me in. Then again, I really had nowhere else to go. Dad was stuck at the hospital and Hannah was looking after him.
Thinking about that brought back thoughts about Dad, and seeing Hannah at the hospital by his side.
After my mom died, it was just Dad and I for a while. He wasn’t the best dad there was, too busy to spend time with me most of the time, but I had plenty of friends. And then I got my ass arrested, and with him being sick, Dad was a lot more reliable than I was, even though he’d practically abandoned me, I was the one to completely turn my back on him when shit went down. I ended up in prison.
When they got married, I didn’t fucking care either way. Now, I felt like I owed her a lot of thanks for not leaving my dad.
I should have been thinking of was how he was doing, whether he was all right.
I stepped out of the shower with a towel slung over my shoulder, wiping down my hair. I’d realized already that I had been acting like a child. So what if I didn’t get from Dad back then? I didn’t realize until we’d lost Mom the big gap between us. It was only after she was gone it felt like I was living with a stranger, I didn’t know how to talk to.
Maybe it was the same for Dad. And I should have tried to talk to him back then instead of going off the rails. But I’d been young and brash. Not to say that I was much older now, but after three years in prison, I’d picked up some interesting experiences.
Dad, in his way, was trying to lend a hand by asking Claire to look after me. She wasn’t obligated to just because I was her stepbrother; we didn’t see each other all that much, anyway. I’d probably spoken to her more recently than I had since we met. If not for worrying about my dad, she still would have tossed me aside to rot, I was sure.
“Shit,” I muttered in a huff. “I need to thank them both, don’t I? For caring enough to try and keep me out of prison.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed, naked, but not feeling like getting up just yet. I checked the time on my phone and saw it was after lunch, but still pretty early in the afternoon.
Also, I had to apologize. And we needed to talk. Whoever I got to see first was the one I’d get to talk to first. I didn’t even know if Dad would be in a position to talk to me, and that chat might be a long one in the end. As for Claire…well. We would see.
“Clothes, clothes,” I muttered as I got up to look around the room.
I had come out of prison with only the clothes on my back. Ever since I’d come to this apartment, I’d only changed in this one outfit. Looking around the guest room, I hadn't checked it out properly, but as I did I found some of my old clothes. It felt like fucking heaven as I slipped on a change of clothes.
“Damn, how long has it been since I’ve gotten to change clothes?”
The prison clothes didn’t count. I may have had more than one set, but it all looked the same, either way.
With nothing else holding me back, it was time to go. Then I bent to pick up my shoes and winced when I felt a piercing pain in the back of my eyes, and I swayed, nearly falling flat on my face.
First, I needed to get rid of this fucking hangover.
This part, I wasn’t looking forward to. I went to the kitchen to make a little remedy. The hair of the dog. It had been a while since I’d had to sober myself up, and I’d forgotten just how disgusting it tasted, especially since I liked to mix liquors. I went back to brush my teeth to get rid of the smell, and it was even more disgusting. But I couldn’t show up at the hospital and have people thinking I was drunk. It would just ruin what I was trying to do.
“Now,” I breathed out, walking stiffly to the door.
I was ready to leave. There was nothing left to get ready. I had the house keys and some cash on me, and I knew the way, too, so it wasn’t like I would get lost, or something. There was nothing left to do but open the door and step out. I went to reach my hand out to the doorknob…
Only, I didn’t. Because my hand was frozen and I’d barely reached for it.
Move it, Rogue Rest, I growled to myself.
My hand moved an inch and another inch. I moved it until I at least had it on the door handle, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn it.
I was fucking scared.
Too scared to open that door, to go out there and face my mistakes. To go and face my dad when I was just barely sober, not knowing his fate, lying in a hospital probably dying while I got out of prison and went out drinking over some stupid argument I got into with Claire.
What would Dad think of me? Would he look at me in disappointment again? Would he look at me at all? I hadn't gotten much from Claire about what his situation was besides what was ailing him, and when I stopped by the hospital before, I didn’t stop to check and see how he was doing.
Was it too late to even apologize?
My hand squeezed hard around the door handle, my chest squeezing along with it until my eyesight went fuzzy and I felt like I couldn’t breathe properly, but I had to be a man and stop acting like a fucking mouse.