The Peace River Grove Series: Unexpected 💜

Chapter One

'Yo it's Damon. I'm busy. So leave a
message and I'll get back to you.'

Always. Fucking. Busy.
Never. Calls. Back.
This is the tenth time I've called my brother today, I shouldn't bother leaving another message but I do anyway.

"Happy fucking birthday, asshole." I say when I'm greeted with his voicemail. Again. I shouldn't bother. But I do. "Where are you?" I ask, knowing I won't get an answer.
Damon hasn't answered his phone in a long time, yet I still continue to try and track him down. Sometimes he will just show up without warning and disappear twice as fast. No call, no texts, no emails, not even a fucking smoke signal to tell me what he has been upto. Nothing but silence. And the silence is deafening. "I have a bottle of JD with your name on it. You're a fucking pain in my ass Damon. Call me back. Please."
Fuck. I said please.
Me.
Saying please.
I'm actually fucking begging cause I'm that desperate to hear from him. It's his fucking birthday after all. We always celebrate his birthday.

He won't call me back. I know that. I shouldn't care, because he clearly doesn't. I shouldn't check my phone every hour praying for a miracle. I shouldn't. But I do.

Give me a sign you're there, somewhere.

I throw my cell phone down into the basin of the sink and reach into the pocket of my jeans, pulling out a small, clear packet. Followed by a rolled up dollar bill. I tell myself I need it. I'm not addicted. Without it I will drown. It calms the chaos, controls the noise and allows me to breathe. For that little period of time as the drug kicks in and my adrenaline fuels, I can hear myself clearly and that is what I need to survive.

I empty some of the white substance, pouring it onto the sink and line it up with my credit card, ready to take my hit. I tilt my head back once I sniff the powder up my nose, feeling it flow down my throat. A beautiful taste I have become fond of.

My own personal taste of freedom.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror I check to make sure I have no evidence of drugs surrounding my nose.
One line is enough for tonight. I'm working the bar so I can't have people assuming something is up with me. I can't let anyone see how fucked up I really am. No one will ever understand.
I just need a minute, or even a fucking second to get my shit together.

Breathe.
Just fucking breathe, Jones.

The sudden ringing of my cell makes my heart pound hard in my chest.

Damon?

It's not.

"What do you fucking want?" I close my eyes, disappointment running through my veins. I've avoided his calls all day, I may as well answer it now or he will never go away.

"Where are you?" Bray asks, shouting down the phone to be heard over the thumping of the music coming from downstairs. Bray is one of the idiots that lives with me. One of three. Yes, I'm twenty eight years old and I still have fucking housemates like it's some sort of frat house. It worked at the time, but now, not so much. Not for me anyway. It's one of the reasons why I spend so much time at work lately. I've also been known to sleep in my office from time to time. When I can sleep that is, which isn't very often.