Recovery by Nicole Dykes (best time to read books .txt) 📗

I roll my eyes at him and take another drink. “She did.” I shrug, “I mean, for like a second.”

“What? You’re saying she wants my dick?” He grins at me when I turn to look at him with a serious expression. He then laughs uncontrollably. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“If she’d have wanted you, you would have.”

“I’m different. You’re the type to get all fucking attached.” His hand on my chin, turning me to look away from Mya and back at him alerts me to the fact that I was already watching her again. “Point made.”

“I’m not attached. I’m pissed-off and confused.”

He laughs, leaning against the wall, “Oh fuck, what happened? Blow your load a little too fast? I mean, that shit happens. She’s hot.”

“That shit may happen to you. It didn’t happen to me.”

He flips me off with a laugh. “So then, what did?”

“She thinks I’m an addict.”

Now he looks slightly more serious. My best friend will always have my back, no matter what. “Why does she think that?”

“Because I told her I was going to an NA meeting.”

“You tell her why?”

He was there for all of it, every miserable second. I can tell he’s getting defensive on my behalf. “I did. Look, man. I think her mom was, or is, an addict. She won’t talk about it.” I run my fingers through my hair, taking another drink of beer and watch her out of the corner of my eye, watching her trying to avoid my presence. “She thinks I’m a junkie.”

“Fuck. Her.” Yep, definitely defensive.

“Finn, it’s a fine line.”

“Nah, that’s bullshit. You paid your debt and then some. You’re flying right, and you haven’t fucked up in years. And then she comes here and makes you question yourself.” He walks over, grabbing the vodka bottle and taking another swig, eyeing Mya as he joins me again. “That’s fucked-up. Her pussy had better have been amazing.”

My fists clench, and my jaw tightens. “Don’t talk about her pussy.”

He rolls his eyes with irritation. “See? Fucking attached.”

“She may not talk about her past, but we all know there was a tragedy there. Give her a break.”

“And what about you?” His blue eyes meet mine, pissed the fuck off for me.

“What about me? I did that shit. You were there, Finn. I fucked up. I could have killed Mandy and Bobby. They could be dead because of me.”

“They’re not. They’re married and fucking happy.” He places the vodka back on the table and moves to stand in front of me. “You’re not a junkie.”

“Maybe I’m an addict.”

His hands grasp both sides of my head, and he forces me to look at him. “You’re not.”

I look into his eyes, knowing how much pain I caused him that year, knowing how badly his mom fucked him up when she pulled all her junkie bullshit. And knowing exactly how serious he takes all of this.

“If you two are going to fuck, we can give you pointers.” James is standing next to us with Tommy. They’re both laughing their asses off at us.

Finn laughs, pulling me in for a quick bro hug, slapping my back and pushing me away before addressing James, “No pointers needed, motherfucker.”

James laughs, wrapping an arm around him. “Please, I’ve heard those poor girls in your room, faking it to get it over with.”

Finn flips him off and they all laugh. These assholes are my family.

I’m laughing with them when I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, feeling her. I look to where she’s standing. Sure enough, her eyes are on me. Locked. But she quickly looks away.

Because in her eyes, I’m a piece of shit.

One she can’t trust.

I put my beer down, tell Finn happy birthday and head to bed.

Just me and my fucking demons tonight.

He looked so sad when he left the living room. My whole body is on alert, and I want to go after him. What is that?

We haven’t known each other long at all, but I hate seeing him look that broken.

I excuse myself from Quinn and Logan. I wasn’t really into the conversation anyway. I was busy watching Jase.

I decide to give up and just head to my room, but Finn blocks me. I smell alcohol on his breath, but he doesn’t seem all that drunk.

“Mya. Where you going?” He does, however, seem awfully pissed-off.

“To bed.”

“Yours? Or Jase’s?”

Oh my God. Jase told him about us? I guess I shouldn’t be all that surprised. I told Quinn. I cross my arms in a defensive pose. “Mine.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

What the hell is going on? Finn has been nothing but fun and flirty since I got here, but now he seems to be letting his dark side out as he glares at me. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You called him a fucking junkie?”

“You all think he’s not an addict, but he told me what happened. Sounds like he sure lost control and was at the mercy of alcohol and pills.”

“You don’t know shit.”

His eyes are glued to mine, offering no escape. “He told me his story. He also told me he goes to a meeting every week.”

“Because he’s that fucking good. There’s no one like Jase. No one. He went through some serious shit. And yeah, he fucked up but owned it. How many people do you know like that? He doesn’t have to go to those meetings, but he does. He doesn’t have to sponsor that little dickhead, but he fucking does. He could have served his time and said fuck it, but he didn’t.”

Finn clearly cares a whole hell of a lot about Jase, but that could be his biggest problem. Addicts are master manipulators. And often, it’s the people closest to them who are the most blind to their addiction. “I know addicts, Finn.”

“So. Do. I.” The way he says it, punctuating each word with intensity, and the way his eyes never waver from mine, making sure I get it sends the message clearly