Must be nice ... to have a clear quest and a way out.
My real-life dungeon didn’t come with maps or magic keys.
Austin’s eyebrows bounced. “Let’s roll.”
I wasn’t aboutto admit it to anyone, but playing Dungeons & Dragons for four straight hours was the highlight of my week. When the night was over, we’d worked as a team to overcome obstacles, fight demons, and escape the dungeon. We argued, we screwed up, we rolled like shit, and still—we made it out. Together. Funny how that worked better in fantasy than it did in my actual life. Collectively, we mounted our horses and rode off toward the local village, where we’d continue the game next time.
It was nerdy and Brody, who was a High-Elf Fighter, kept breaking his magical bow, but hell—it was fun.
My house was dark by the time I got back. I pretended to not notice the headlights from Hayes’s truck following me home. When I closed my front door, anxiety wound around my shoulders. The house was too quiet. Too dark. The place looked like a goddamn postcard for loneliness—no lights, no sound, just my reflection in the window and the ache in my leg for company.
It was nearly midnight, and instead of being able to collapse on my bed, I had to think about things like removing my prosthetic, checking for signs of irritation, and all the extra minutes it now took to get myself ready to do anything. Most people got to just fall face-first onto their mattress and call it anight. I got a checklist and a reminder that nothing in my life was simple anymore.
It was fucking exhausting.
Upstairs, my king-size bed was calling to me. I wanted nothing more than to sink into the mattress, pull the covers over my head, and ignore the world until morning. But it was no longer that easy for me.
My hips were sore, and my right foot was screaming for a break. Weary and exhausted, I lowered myself to the couch and exhaled. The upstairs bedroom might as well have been on another continent. The couch had become home base—close to the door, close to the bathroom, close to the version of me who didn’t try too hard. I had started removing my prosthetic when a knock came at the door.
I glanced at the clock. It was way too late for unexpected visitors. My stomach dropped. There was only one person stubborn enough to show up at this hour and bang on my door like he paid the mortgage.
“Wes, open up. It’s me.” Hayes’s voice boomed through the door.
I gritted my teeth and wanted to ram my fist into the wall. It found the couch cushion instead.
I knew he wasn’t going anywhere, so I blew out a breath. “Use your key and come in.”
When he did, Hayes’s frame filled the entryway.
“What?” I snapped. I heard the bite in my own voice and hated how automatic it had become with him.
Hayes lifted his chin and took my lashing out like he deserved it. “Just making sure you got settled in okay. I didn’t see the light go on upstairs, so I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything.”
Irritation ground into my jaw like a kernel. “Checking up on me? What the fuck, dude.” I used all my strength to stand,balancing on one leg. “Did you check up on Austin or Cal when they left? I don’t need you to babysit me. I don’t need you following me home or lurking outside or looking at me with that fucking look on your face.” My arm flipped in his direction to emphasize my point.
“I didn’t suddenly turn into a fragile antique just because I’ve got fewer parts,” I added, the words scraping my throat on the way out.
Pain flicked over his features. “I’m just?—”
I registered the hurt in his eyes and still couldn’t stop myself.
Anger and frustration bubbled over. “You justwhat,Hayes? Just need to come here and coddle me and somehow make up for calling me that night? You want to come over and wipe my ass too? Goddamn it, man. Leave me the fuck alone!”
My harsh words landed with a tough blow. Regret and shame coursed through me as I watched my best friend take the verbal assault without flinching.
Hayes only nodded as his jaw worked. “Understood, man.” He turned, his hand landing on the knob of the door. “I can see that you can take care of yourself. But for the record?” He turned and his eyes pinned me in place. “Even if you did need someone to wipe your ass, I’d be there. Not because I felt guilty—which I do, by the way—but because I love you.”
The words hit harder than any punch I’d ever taken. I wanted to tell him to fuck off. I wanted to grab him and beg him not to leave. Instead, I just stood there, one-legged and silent, watching him leave.
Without another glance back, Hayes walked out. The front door rattled as it slammed closed. Hurt, confusion, and self-loathing coursed through me. I wanted to scream or cry or beat the shit out of something. The only thing nearby was a half-empty glass of water on the console table.
With a yell, I swiped it hard enough to send it careening through the air until it hit a wall and smashed into a thousand pieces. Water streaked down the paint in crooked lines, tiny shards glittering in the lamplight. I stared at the mess, chest heaving, knowing I’d just broken something a hell of a lot more important than a glass.
I barely recognized myself anymore. Six months ago I’d been happy and would never have dreamed of speaking to my best friend that way. I hated the man I’d become since the accident.
I hated myself, and nothing could fix that.