her. // dacre montgomery

5.

Dacre wakes up in his own bed. His entire body was raked with sweat and his jacket and the pair of jeans that remained on his body were not helping. His mouth had odd coconut taste to it and he didn't know why, but maybe if he did he would understand why he felt so awful. He sits up and blindly searches around his bed until he finds his phone underneath one of his pillows. He had a stream of missed phone calls from Jack and Jessy, a call from Grace, five messages from Shay, and one from an unknown number.

Something was wrong.

He figured his first response should be to Jack, because not only would he be able to fill him in on what was going on, but he could help piece together last night.

"Dac, where the hell have you been?" Jack answers the phone.

"I was hoping you could tell me." He says beginning to peel off layers of clothing that stuck to his body. God it was hot.

"I don't know man, you left me last night at the bar after you mentioned going to piss and I hadn't seen you since. I figured you fell in the toilet or just weren't feeling it anymore and decided to head out. I thought you would have sobered up and found you way to the hospital by now or at least asked me to come get you, yet then again I also thought you wouldn't want Dave to see you like that, which is why I called Jessy here and--"

"Wait, hospital?" Dacre could feel his stomach drop.

"Yeah.. Dac, Jennifer and David were in a car accident late last night. You still didn't know?"

"No, I... I didn't fucking know." Dacre says. And all of a sudden he remembers why the taste of coconut is his so strong in mouth and he's kneeling in front of the toilet, vomitting because not only did he have too fucking much to drink last night but his son was in the hospital and he wasn't there because of it. His memory floods him with scenes from the hotel room, the girl that resembled Shay, and fuck, Shay.

He's back inside the bowl, his insides rejecting the poison in his body, reminding him that he's the worst guy on the planet and it won't stop. He sat there for maybe forty minutes, his body reduced to just puking every 5 minutes or so rather than every 30 seconds. He hung up on Jack a solid thirty minutes ago and he knew this had to be his karma.

Karma for his drunken actions that he himself was only to blame. His son could be dead for all he knew and he was stuck on the bathroom floor like a fucking 18 year old. Not even to mention the shitty feeling about Shay he had and every time her name flashed across his mind it was another wave to his headache. It takes the strength of God to get his body off the ground and as much as he wants to crawl back in his bed, he knew he needed to get to his son.

He could tell he was still drunk by the pain in his head, the slight swerves he was doing on the road and the fact that he smelled awful, but he knew he was gonna have to be good enough to get to the hospital. He calls back Jack, asking what floor and room again and quickly makes his way there. He parks his truck and runs inside. The elevators could not have moved any slower against his favor, and he takes two laps around the hospital floor before finding the room and his heart breaks into a million pieces when he sees David.

He was preoccupied with Dacre's sister and didn't see him walk in, and he's glad he didn't. The look on Dacre's face probably would have scared him. David had a cast around his arm in a sling, and a bandage around his head. He didn't look like he was concerned with the bandages on him so Dacre was grateful that the pain wasn't too bad.

"Hey buddy.' Dacre announces, causing David to turn around.

"Daddy!" He yells reaching out his arms.

"You smell funny."

"I know bud, I'm sorry." He apologizes as he keeps his arms around him.

"How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?" He asks David, motioning towards his head and his arm.