Page 64 of Micah

Hands dragging through his hair.

“Crap... crap... crap!”

“Patrick.”

He doesn't answer.

“Patrick!”

“What?” he snaps.

“You're scaring me.”

That finally slows him down.

Just a little.

He looks at me.

Really looks.

Then forces a laugh that sounds painfully fake.

“It's nothing.”

“It doesn't feel like nothing.”

His red-rimmed eyes narrow.

And just for a moment, I swear it’s like a stranger is looking at me.

“Look, I just forgot I had to pay somebody.”

“You owe someone money? Who?”

“Just...”

He waves a hand.

“It’s no one. Just a guy.”

“What guy? How much?”

“Mind your fucking business, Sloane!”

“What? Patrick, you don't have business you don't tell me about. Not since last time. Right?”

His jaw clenches.

“You know, you’re asking a lot of questions lately.”

“I'm asking because you're acting strange, and this place is our last shot.”

“I'm fine. Just shut up already.”

“You've been drinking.”

“So what?”