I Love You, My Neighbour

Chapter 12: You're a Lifesaver

Logan

Saturday morning, I wake up feeling something I haven't felt in a very long time—hungover.

God, I hate Kyle.

Okay, I don't hate him; he is my mate. But if he was here right now, I'd be very tempted to smack him upside the head for dragging me out last night.

I hadn't wanted to go. I fought him every step of the way, only capitulating in the end because he promised never to bring up going out again this year if I agreed to one night out.

Now I'm calling myself all kinds of names for giving in.

I expected to hate the whole night, to loathe the nightclub and everyone in it. Sure, I'm in my late twenties, but I feel a lot older than everyone else around me most of the time. Losing Izzy aged me. I feel it in my bones—the toll grief has taken on me.

But last night...

Last night wasn't half as bad as I thought it would be. And yet at the same time, it was ten times worse. Worse because I noticed all the women dancing around me. I admired their short skirts and shorts and their little skin-tight tops. I noticed boobs and legs and hair and eyes.

After years of being completely uninterested in anything other than satisfying my sexual urges with mindless hand relief, I feel as though I've suddenly woken up from a coma. I started thinking about what it would be like to be with a woman again. I hate it.

My mates have implied carefully on several occasions that Izzy would want me to be happy and move on, but the guilt I felt from looking nearly knocked me on my arse. Which is why I'd gotten buzzed and then quickly pounded the drinks down until I was shit-faced.

Yup, I'm definitely going to shoot Kyle.

Rolling over, I swear when I see what the time is. I can't remember the last time I slept past seven, but it's well past eight now.

I bolt out of bed, only to regret it immediately. The sudden movement sends a wave of nausea through me. Ugh, I don't know how I'm going to get through a day of hammering and drilling today.

Falling back into bed is tempting. The only thing stopping me is the thought of Kristy standing on my front doorstep, waiting for me. Adam, Jamie, and Kyle, I can message, but I don't have my neighbour's number to give her the same courtesy.

Of course, she only lives next door, meaning she can head straight home when she realizes I'm not there. Still, I feel bad that my jackass of a friend invited her to come over and help on her one day off work. Worse still, he'd asked her to bring food. If she's baked food for us and is waiting for me, I don't want to stand her up.

Besides, I can't really afford to give up a full day of work on the house.

On the way to the bathroom, I give my stove a wistful look. If I had anything worth frying in the fridge, I'd be tempted to whip it out and cook. But I don't. Since I'm barely here, I don't stock much in the way of food. And even if I did have food in my fridge, I wouldn't be able to enjoy it knowing Kristy might be waiting for me.

Forcing myself into the shower, I try to wake myself up with hot then cold water. As soon as I'm out of the shower, I send the guys a quick text, letting them know I'll be at the house in twenty minutes. Then I pack my esky, grab my car keys and phone, and head out to my Ute.

I drive to Carrington Bay doing the speed limit with the window down, feeling queasy to the pit of my stomach. I need food and coffee, not necessarily in that order.

As soon as I pull into the driveway, I shut the engine off and step out of my car, looking around for Kristy or the guys. When I don't see anyone, I let myself into my house. It isn't until I walk into the kitchen with my esky that I realize I don't have anything that I need to make coffee.