I vomit again.
“Bastian? Are you okay?”
I didn’t even hear him approach. I still can’t look back. I hold up my hand. “I’m okay,” I rasp. “Just, please leave me alone.”
“We can help. Was it the alcohol? Are you sick?”
My mouth tastes bitter with bile and my skin feels too tight and I snap. “I said fuck off, Stitch!”
I know I’m being an asshole, but I just want to be left alone. No one’s ever been there the morning after. I don’t know how to process this.
I storm off, my boots stomping through the snow. I grab what’s left of the bourbon from last night and finish the bottle in a long swig, letting it burn down my esophagus and sit hot and heavy in my stomach. I stare at the fire pit, the logs black and lifeless, our footprints scattered around the forest floor. It’s all a testament that last night was real.
So why are you fighting it?
My eyes are hot and wet. I throw the empty bottle, and it shatters against a tree, glass cascading like ice into the snow. A loud sob rips up my throat, and I shove my fist against my mouth to stop it.
When I hear their footsteps crunching along the trail, I hurry inside. I kick off my boots and then run to the only place in this self-imposed prison where I can have privacy.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BRANTLEY
Bastian locked himself in the bathroom. We can hear his quiet cries despite the fan running. Fi walks over and sits cross-legged in front of the door, and her palm presses against it like she can feel him through the wood.
“Whatever you’re feeling, I can help you through this.”
Sebastian’s still quiet, and Fi bows her head, letting it rest against the door.
I look around, my eyes falling on the pile of books Fi had been sifting through yesterday. I walk over and pick upThe Sword of Shannaraand flip through the pages, savoring the old book smell. It reminds me of the library at Whitmore U.
I glance over at Fi. She hasn’t moved, so I go to the kitchen and set the book on the counter while I fill a large bowl with Lucky Charms. Then I sit next to her, placing the bowl of dry cereal between us. I hand her the book. She looks at me quizzically.
I clear my throat. “Do you remember in college when you used to read to me?”
A smile lights her face, though I can still see the worrycrinkling the corners of her eyes. “It’s one of my favorite memories with you, B.”
I swallow.Same, baby girl.I nod at the book.
She takes it, looking at the description on the back. “Why this one?”
“Terry Brooks was my mom’s favorite author,” I say haltingly.
Even though Fi and I were briefly together in college, it was never official, and we never really talked about our families. I knew that her mom was an alcoholic, and she knew that my dad was a controlling asshole. Otherwise, we kept our happiness in a private bubble.
She accepts my simple explanation and opens the book, flipping to the first chapter. Her voice is melodic as she starts to read, “‘The sun was already sinking into the deep green of the hills to the west of the valley, the red and gray-pink of its shadows touching the land, when Flick Ohmsford began his descent.’”
I lean back against the wall and close my eyes. I’m not really tired. Sleeping curled up in the barn with Fiona and Bastian was more comfortable than it deserved to be. But I need the distraction. Bastian’s unexpected departure this morning has left us both feeling off balance.
After a couple chapters, Fi pauses to grab a handful of cereal, popping the morsels into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “This is weird.”
“What is?”
“Taking care of Seb. Or trying to, anyway.”
I bite my bottom lip and look at the closed door. “Do you think what we did was a mistake? What if we freaked him out?”
“I hope not,” she says quietly. “I really like having him around.”
