I nod, already unlocking his phone to find the contact in his calendar for the company he’s supposed to work for. The phone rings and eventually goes to a recorded message. “Shit.” I hang up. I’ll deal with that later.
Tessa observes silently as I go through my usual motions and clean up after my brother. The trash brims with empty vodka bottles, and the sink is full of dishes. Yesterday’s clothes are crumpled on the floor, and they stink like vomit. I take them to the laundry and strip his bed, throw the linens in too.
I don’t want to look Tessa in the eye for fear she may be judging this whole sorry mess.
I wish I could say any of what I see in front of me is surprising. I wish I could say it was the first time Karen called me over here to run interference because she had to get to work and was sick of being the only adult in the room.
Not that it should be my problem, either. But she sees it that way. He’s my family, so I’m accountable for his genetics.
“I’m fine. Juss need some coffee,” he slurs.
I wonder how many days he’s done exactly this, felt his body jonesing for a drink, hit the bottle early, and somehow sobered up enough to get through a work shift. He’s good at fooling most people.
Not Karen. And not me.
It’s why I called in a favor and got him the security guard job where he doesn’t carry a firearm—just a walkie to radio the real cops if something goes south. No driving required. Just a lot of standing around in a uniform at a place that hasn’t seen an attempted robbery in two decades. It’s emasculating for a guy who graduated top of his class from the police academy, but until he’s sober, it’s the best job he’s likely to get around here.
And now, I’ve let Tessa into this mess. I can’t cope with the ramifications of that right now. Chad combs back his hair, and I help him with his pants and belt in front of the mirror, marveling at how he looks almost put together enough to pass for someone who isn’t drunk.
Walking him out of the bedroom, I direct him to the couch and go to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. I find half a pot already there, so I take three mugs from the cupboard, no idea what my plan is. Do I think we’re all going to sit and get to know each other over coffee and a cinnamon bun?
When I return to the living room, I find Tessa on the couch next to my brother. He has his hand on her belly, and they’re engaged in an animated conversation about…gophers.
“You have to flood the holes with water, wait for them to come up, and then give ’em a whack,” Chad says, like he has any idea what he’s talking about.
“Like Whac-A-Mole?”
He throws up his hands. “Moles, gophers…They’re pests.”
I roll my eyes and put the coffee cups on the table. “Don’t listen to him. He’s never whacked a gopher.”
“You dunno.” Chad has reached the sleepy phase of his bender, where his head slumps forward, and he starts blinking heavily. Coffee’s useless now.
Tessa makes eye contact with me, sympathetic. Chad is moving around, trying to get situated. I walk over and give Tessaa hand getting off the deep couch, and she lands against my side. I don’t step away. It feels good to have her close.
“Thanks,” she says. I wait for her to say more, pass some sort of judgment on the situation, but she doesn’t.
Chad manages to get his feet up on the couch and closes his eyes. I know he’ll be out for a couple of hours while I figure out what excuse to make at his job if I get in touch with someone. Feeling emotionally drained, I slowly walk Tessa out of the room.
“He’s…this whole situation…” I shake my head. I don’t know what to say about it, how to explain.
“Like you can’t ever win.”
Her words hit me like a wrecking ball. The simplicity of the statement. The fact that she gets it. The fact that she’s right.
I can’t win this battle until Chad gets some help. Until he’s willing. Until he hits rock bottom, wherever that is, with whoever he takes down with him. And I know I’m going to be there when he does, so it leaves me in knots of nervous anticipation all the time.
But I don’t explain any of that to Tessa. I wrap my arms around her and hold on tight, afraid that if I let go, she’ll run as far away as she can from the mess that’s my life. I need her to think I’m worthy of being a father to our child. I silently promise us both that I’ll be the best possible father because she and our baby deserve nothing less.
And I can’t let myself be distracted by how much I want to kiss her. How much I love her.
It’s too much to inflict my mess of a life onto her. I can’t. I won’t.
CHAPTER 28
Tessa
Eight and a HalfMonths Pregnant
