Chapter 9
When Marcus drifts back into consciousness, he’s mildly alarmed by the fact that it’s raining in his bedroom. He blinks a few times, willing himself not to throw up as he pushes himself up onto his elbows. Jackson stands over him with a steely glower and a spray bottle full of what Marcus hopes is water.
Marcus quickly drops back down to rest his face against the cool hardwood of his bedroom floor, squeezing his eyes shut tightly to stop his brain from spinning. “Why the f**k am I on the floor?”
“Because you’re a dumbass.” Jackson’s reply is cool and clipped. “I’m surprised you made it home at all. Haven’t seen you much this past week. I’d have been worried but the vomit streaks you’ve been leaving regularly in the bathroom let me know you were alive, at the very least.”
“Sor
