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Jesus, three fucking daughters?
Snorting with laughter, he shakes his head. “Not my little Hope. She’s already tearing through her striking and grappling classes. She wants nothing to do with all that girly stuff. She’s going to be a fighter like her dad.”
Thank god she doesn’t look like him. I can’t imagine a female version of Bear walking around.
“You gonna pour me some of that?” He motions to the bottle I’m holding.
“You planning on drinking with me the whole day?” I ask.
“Nah, just till you pass out,” he says.
“That’s not gonna be anytime soon,” I say and crack open the seal on the bottle.
“Rehab centers take drop-ins at all hours. I’m sure they won’t mind me bringing you to them in the middle of the night,” he says with a shrug of his massive shoulders.
“What the fuck?” I growl out.
I can feel the blood pounding behind my eyes as the headache slams back full force into the front of my skull.
“You’ve got two choices, as I see it,” he says as he leans forward, his eyes suddenly becoming more intense than I’ve ever seen them before.
“I’ve got a feeling you’re not going to say something I want to hear,” I say and roll my eyes.
“Yep. Two choices,” he repeats. “Choice number one: We drink till you pass out. Then I toss you over my shoulder and take you to a nice rehab on a seventy-two-hour wellness hold. Involuntary more than likely. But me and the guys at the gym know a couple people who will help keep you in for the full seventy-two.”
The bottle isn’t even fully opened and I get that sick drop in my stomach at the thought of going through what he just said. I’d be able to get out of the rehab after the hold, but he’s right, they’ve all got connections throughout the city. I’d stay every single fucking hour of that hold.
Sober. Completely fucking sober.
“Option two?” I croak out.
“You leave the bottle on the end table there, go take your shower, and come with me,” he says.
“That’s…” I try to think of something to say, but suddenly my tongue is thick and dry in my mouth.
“It’s pretty simple. Two choices,” he says and leans back against the couch.
“It’s not that simple, Max,” I say to him, calling him by his real name and not his ring name.
“Actually, it is, Emmett. You have two options. You choose one and everything else follows after. You just need to figure out which way this is going to work. Each one will be a fight for you, but drinking yourself into an early grave or putting a bullet through your skull isn’t an option.”
For the last two months, I’ve debated those two things. Debated how I’d like
to go out. Something inside of my brain doesn’t do what I expect though. I watch my hand shakily move the bottle to the end table.
“No promises beyond today,” I say as I stand up and avoid looking at him.
Bear nods. “I can get behind that for now.”
Chapter Four
Bree
Slowly awakening from my nap, I linger in that place somewhere between sleep and awareness, enjoying the sweet oblivion.
Here, there are no worries, no problems, and most of all, no cheating ex-boyfriends and backstabbing best friends.
There’s only the warm blanket wrapped around me, the soft pillow beneath my head, and this wonderful feeling of weightlessness.
