𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬

fifty-two.

I had just spent the last three hours applying to every job that I somewhat qualify for with the flexibility to care for Raine and my head is spinning.

I gave up smoking, but if there was a time to get a quick drag, it would be now.

I sat on Willow's porch, mid-day with a freshly crack pack and a bag of cookies.

I was smart enough to grab an old tray I found in the garage to use as an ashtray. I needed to pick up Raine in about two hours, but I would allot myself this time to unwind a bit.

I might not be the healthiest individual, but I know if I don't find a way to release some emotion, it will only end in one way. The last thing I want right now is to terrify Raine or allow her to get caught in the crosshairs of my unraveling.

I flick the cigarette between my fingers. I've yet to light the thing. Wondering if I can even handle just a drag.

My fingertips feel like pins and needles.

That's what my entire body has been on since I got the call.

Is this penance for my betrayal?

A lifetime's worth of questionable morality has all lead to this?

Losing every single person that matters to me because the little things that should have mattered to me never did?

I pinch my nose.

Spiraling at this point isn't a luxury I have.

Even if I am to blame.

If this is the balance in the world.

Raine shouldn't be the one to pay for my deeds. Or Ian's for that matter.

The tires come to a stop and I don't bother looking up. No one who could possibly be visiting is someone that I would welcome, so why fuss.

I dig for another cookie while lazily grabbing the lighter I'd set on the small table between the two chairs. It's the same one I've had for nearly a decade. How the thing hasn't ran out of fluid by now is beyond me.

"I thought you kicked that."

My gaze slowly drags from the lighter to the pair of eyes that now lean against the porch pilar.

"If there was ever a time for a cigarette," I run my thumb across the top of the lighter. "I think it would be now."

"Whatever gets you through the day, Angel."

"No third degree?" I lift a brow.

Anaca gnaws on his bottom lip. "You've always been capable of making your own choices, Woody. I spent too long denying you that."

"You want one?"

I place the cigarette between my lips, rising the lighter to the end.

"I'll take a drag off yours, if you don't mind," he says, taking the few steps to now lean against the railing in front of me.

With an exhale, I light the cancer stick.

The smoke hitting my tongue is reminiscent of the first time I ever smoked. It tastes awful. I don't really want to take another drag but I know it gets better so I do before offering it to Anaca.

He pinches it between him thumb and index finger, effortlessly taking a long hit.

"You know I can't handle this right now, don't you?" I mutter. "You, Auden. I can't deal with that."

The smoke seeps from his lips in a way that makes my inside melt. The kind of way hot rockstars have trademarked for years past.

"I'm not asking you to," he replies. "I took care of it. It's my burden to bear."