Creek by Nora Phoenix & E.M. Lindsey

Author:Nora Phoenix & E.M. Lindsey [Phoenix, Nora & Lindsey, E.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-06-28T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

HEATH

I knew the moment he left for the restroom that something was wrong. I told myself to let him ride it out. God only knew how many times I’d needed to just fall apart without an audience, but when ten minutes went by, my gut told me it was time to check on him. He was in the restroom falling apart, or he was gone, having bailed on the date.

I didn’t know which one to hope for.

No, that wasn’t true—I did know. If he bailed on the date, thanks to his newly discovered bi-panic, it meant he wasn’t being torn apart from grief. Panic would subside. Grief was a far harder beast to lose.

My leg felt a little shaky as I made my way into the dark corridor, and then I came to a stop in front of the restroom door. The little indicator was turned to Occupied, so I took a breath, then knocked and waited.

There was no answer.

“Creek?” It felt strange to use his name, but I was starting to think maybe using his title was upsetting him. Maybe even triggering him, and that was the last thing I wanted. I knocked again. “Hey, just give me some sign of life.”

There was a small thud.

Great. He was in there, and it was option A. I could probably deal with that too.

“If you’re not shitting your brains out on the toilet, can you let me in?”

There was a long pause, then broken, rough laughter. After that, I heard another thud, and then the lock clicked. I gave it another moment, and then I pushed the door open and was grateful he’d at least turned the light on and wasn’t sitting in the dark.

He was sitting a few feet away on the floor, which was heinous because there were few nastier places than the men’s restroom in a bar. But even with the rank smell of beer-piss, I locked the door behind me and lowered to the ground at his side. He had one hand over his face, his prosthetic stretched out, and his other leg hitched up close to his body. His crutches were leaning against the sink.

“What can I do?”

He said nothing. He was shaking, and his cheeks were wet, and I recognized the spiral. It had been a while since I’d had one of my own, but the signs were all there. I twisted to face him a little better. Sitting cross-legged was hell on my hip, but I couldn’t bring myself to give a shit.

“Do you want me to call someone?”

He nodded, and without removing his hand from his face, his free one dug his phone out of his pocket. Without looking—which was some serious skill—he typed in his passcode, then handed it over.

“Just nod when I get to the name,” I said. I began to read out his contacts list. Some of them were normal names. Others were clearly Army nicknames like Bean and Booger. But I went through them all, stopping when he stiffened after I read out, “Nash.

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