The icy command was uttered by a familiar voice, and though it hadn’t been loud, to his aching head it sounded like a banshee’s shriek.

“Lower your voice,” he groaned, reaching up to rub his throbbing temples.

AJ didn’t sound at all sympathetic. “Jesus Christ, man. Did you drink all that? In one sitting?”

Reed’s gaze shifted to the coffee table, which boasted two empty pints of whiskey and a half-finished fifth of scotch. It was all the alcohol he’d had in the house, and the liquor cabinet had been the first thing he’d opened when he’d come home last night. His goal had been to drink Darcy Grant right out of his heart, and it looked like he’d succeeded. With the drinking part, at least. But exorcising Darcy from his heart?

He’d failed miserably.

The shame of what he’d done to her, combined with the agony of knowing he’d lost her, fused together and somehow turned into a sharp dose of anger, directed at the man hovering over him.

“You told me to prove it to her,” Reed accused.

AJ blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Darcy. You told me to prove to her that I’d changed, to show her that I was someone she could fall for. Why the f**k did you say that?” Groaning, Reed heaved himself off the couch and onto his feet. His entire body immediately swayed, the floor beneath him and the walls around him spinning wildly. “Shit. I’m gonna hurl.”

Before he threw up all over himself—or AJ—he managed to lurch into the hall bathroom. On his knees, he emptied three bottles’ worth of alcohol into the toilet, then draped himself over the bowl, dry heaving until the vicious contractions of his stomach finally ceased.

He heard footsteps, cursing when AJ appeared in the open doorway. His friend wore a look of sheer disgust, mingled with a flicker of bewilderment.

“I have no idea what you’re babbling about,” AJ announced. “All I know is that you left us in the lurch on Friday night, and you didn’t bother showing up for work today, either.”

“Today? What time is it?” Reed said weakly.

AJ scowled. “It’s eight.”

“AM or PM?”

“PM, goddamn it!”

Shit. He’d been passed out on the couch for…his brain valiantly tried to do the math. He’d started drinking around ten on Friday…crashed around two…so that meant… eighteen hours. He’d been in an alcohol-induced coma for eighteen frickin’ hours.

The guilt rose fast, making him gag again, but there was nothing left to throw up.

“And don’t get me started on what you did to Darcy,” AJ was fuming from the door.

Like he could ever forget. Reed’s cheek still stung from where Skyler had slapped it. Gage’s girlfriend had driven right back to Sin after she’d left with Darcy, and like a mama lioness, she’d ripped into Reed good, so furious with him that Gage had been forced to step in and pry her off his friend.

That was when Reed had hightailed it out of the club, but he didn’t remember much after that.

“I did the only thing I could do to save my dignity,” he mumbled to AJ. “And you…screw you, man.”

“Screw me?” AJ echoed in disbelief.

Reed managed to stagger to his feet. “Yeah, screw you. I did what you said—I showed her. I showed her everything, every goddamn part of me, and you know what? She still didn’t want me.” He stumbled to the sink, where he rinsed out his mouth and splashed cold water on his face, then spoke again without looking at his friend. “Give me a minute to shower, and then I’ll head over to the club.”

“No way.” The response was swift and firm. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what happened. No more of this confusing babbling. Straight up, Reed—why the hell did you cheat on her?”

His jaw fell open, but he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by the accusation. He’d all but dangled that woman under Darcy’s nose, making it clear what he intended to do. But the fact that AJ thought he’d actually gone through with it only illustrated what Reed had been trying hard not to admit.

His best friends still thought he was a screw-up.

Darcy did, too.

And no amount of “proving” could change any of their minds.

“I guess I cheated on her because that’s what I do,” he said coldly. “Right, AJ? I cheat on women, and I hire drug dealers to work at our club, and I don’t stock the f**kin’ bar, but of course, right? It’s classic Reed Miller, isn’t it, AJ?”

The other man looked momentarily stunned. Then he cleared his throat. “Okay. Enough. Clearly, we need to start over.”

“Clearly, we need to get to work,” Reed snapped back.

He tried to brush past AJ, but his friend clamped a hand on his shoulder and glared at him. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Anger climbed up his throat. “AJ—”

“I mean it. You’re not taking another step until you tell me exactly what happened last night. From start to f**kin’ finish.”

…

Ice cream. Lots and lots of ice cream.

Darcy knew from experience that ice cream was the one and only cure for a broken heart. It was sweet enough that it made the bitter taste coating your throat easier to swallow, and if you bought the low-fat kind, you only had to worry about going up one dress size instead of the ten you’d gain once you reached your fifth carton.