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Kaycee woke up in a panic to the sound of his ringtone. She had been calling him for hours, almost begging him to talk to her and now — at 3:23 am — he calls back?

She answered, her voice still groggy. "Sean?"

"Kayc!" he slightly yelled into the phone. "Baby, I'm here."

Three shots deep and Sean was already texting Kaycee, but she didn't answer.


"I'm outside," he stuttered. "Can I come in, p-please?"

Five shots deep and he had already called her twice, still no answer. He started to cry. Jon found him in the bathroom, throwing up and crying her name.

Kaycee's eyes rolled just at the sound of his slurred voice. She knew he was drunk, but some part of her still got up and went downstairs to the front door. She would always care, no matter what.

When opened, Sean was seated on the front steps, but jumped up when she opened it. He could hardly hold himself up — causing him to stumble against the pillar.

Eight shots deep and Jon finally shoved him in an Uber, sending him right to her house.

"Baby," he said. "I missed you."

Her eyes scanned their parking lot, trying to find his car. She prayed to God he didn't drive here and get himself hurt, but his car was nowhere to be found.

"How did you get here?" Kaycee asked. "Did you drive?"

"Jon got me an Uber," he said, teary eyed. Kaycee saw the pain spread on his face as he got closer. "Please let me in," he begged. "I need to talk."

"You're plastered, Sean," she said, angrily crossing her arms. "My entire family is here and you are not on Devon's good side. If they find you, you're dead."

"I'll be quiet," he replied, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Please."

His voice cracked, sending Kaycee into a world of sympathy. She nodded, holding onto him as the two began to walk inside. Anytime he tried to speak up, she shushed him and continued their travel up the stairs and into her room. Luckily, her room was a bit further than the rest, so if he was loud, they had a good chance of no one hearing them.

Once inside her room, she shut the door and locked it. He stumbled into her bathroom, and leaned against the counter, clinging into his head.

"Here's some ibuprofen," she says, reaching into the cupboard and handing him two tablets.

He shook his head and pushed her hand away. "I wanna talk."

"Take these first," she insisted, her hand extending back to him again. "They'll prevent you from getting a bad headache tomorrow morning."

He looked at them for a while until he finally took them, grimacing as they went down his dry throat. It felt like a desert after throwing up all the alcohol he had consumed.

Kaycee grabbed his hands and pulled him to sit down on the toilet seat. "I'll be right back," she said.

"Baby, don't leave me," he begged, his hand on her waist as he stopped her. Kaycee looked at the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. "Please."

"I'm just going to get some clean clothes for you," she explained softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

He nodded his head and let her go. She went back into her room and got him some of his joggers and a hoodie, making it back to the bathroom to see him almost asleep.

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