I drain my beer, then motion for Phil to bring me another. Something inside me is broken, and while I’m not stupid enough to think drinking multiple beers is going to fix, at least it will dull the pain.
For now, that’s enough.
Chapter Fifteen
Finley
I wake with a start and realize that the bedroom door is open. A faint light spills in, outlining a man in the doorway, gripping the frame like he might collapse. Or charge inside. My heart lurches, and I sit up, ready to scream until I realize it’s Alex.
The clock next to the bed reads a little after two a.m. He’s still in his running clothes, snow dusting his hair, but he’s swaying like a drunk Christmas tree ornament.
“Alex, are you okay?”
He squints at me, words slurred. “Yeah… I don’t think so.”
I hurry over to him, scanning him for injuries. Then the heavy stench of beer hits me. He’s drunk.
Why? For all I know, this is a regular occurrence for him, but I don’t think so. This has something to do with his family.
“Come on,” I say, taking his arm and guiding him inside. “Let’s get you to bed.”
He shakes his head in a slow, dramatic wag. “Oh, nooo,” he sings, “can’t be sleeping in your bed. Might molest you.”
I groan and roll my eyes. “Relax, Casanova. I doubt you could molest a doorknob right now.”
That earns a lopsided grin, but he still digs in his heels. “Nope. Not safe.”
“You’re right,” I deadpan. “You could dent the floor when you fall over. Just sit down for a moment.”
“Okay,” he says, his eyelids half shut. “That sounds perfectly weasonable.” He pauses and frowns. “Weas?—”
“It is perfectly reasonable,” I say, tugging him to the bed. “That’s me. Reasonable Finley.”
He lets me guide him, then looks up at me like he’s never seen me before. “Just one of your many wonderful attributes.”
“Maybe I’ll have you make a list,” I tease as I flip on the beside lamp. “Then we can go over it in the morning.”
Light floods the room and my stomach drops. One knee of his sweatpants is ripped and dark with blood. His palm is scraped raw.
I kneel in front of him. “Alex. What happened?”
“Oh, there was a hole in the road,” he says matter-of-factly. “I think I fell into it when I was running.”
“You were running after you’d been drinking? Where’d you get the beer?”
He grins. “How do you know I had beer?”
“I’m a mind reader.”
He gently tries to tap the end of my nose but misses and his fingertip slides across my cheek. “Wouldn’t be surprised. You’re good at everything.”
A drunken compliment. I can’t believe a word he says.
“We’ll add it to the list. Did you scrape your knee?” I tug up his pant leg. A gash on his knee is still oozing blood. I look up at him. “We need to clean this. Do you know where your mom keeps her first aid kit?”
He shrugs, loose and sloppy. “Don’t know. Don’t live here anymore.”
“Where did she keep it when you were a kid? The bathroom? Downstairs in the kitchen?”
