I explain as best I can with my breath all raspy and a thousand scenarios running through my head, all of which involve Wyatt OD’ing. I remember his rattlesnake breathing the last time I found him, how pale he looked, how dead.
Zora sits me down and makes me one of her lemongrass teas, and we just sit there for a while.
When I’ve calmed down a little, she mutters, “I don’t know what to say, Dani. Like I want to make you feel better, but what can I say?”
“Nothing. Because we both know he’s most likely doing drugs,” I mutter.
She nods, sighing. “I’m a s**t friend. Here, let me try again. Don’t worry, baby doll, I’m sure he’s fine.”
I laugh softly, nudging her. “Never call me ‘baby doll’ again, Z.”
“How about this?” she says. “I’ll bring my work out and you can, I don’t know, watch TV o
