Page 17 of Fractured Memories

The fucking bastard.

He barely gives me any answers, tells me something that has to be a lie, and then locks me up again. And I’m supposed to believe he’s my husband?

No.

I clearly need to find a way out of here.

CHAPTER 6

KIERAN

It seems I’ve found a problem that whiskey can’t fix. Though I keep trying to see if drinking a little more will eventually be the solution.

At this point, I’ve lost count of how many glasses I’ve had throughout the night. After Eden demanded to see me—which foolishly made me hope that she would be more receptive to my presence—I started pouring.

She’s been home for less than a day, and it’s ripping me apart. She called me a liar when I told her we are married. And Lochlan thought talking to her would work.

I finish off another glass, never taking my eyes off the window. I keep hoping that staring out at the mountain peaks will ease the tightness in my chest. That I’ll stop feeling absolutely fucking gutted.

But it hasn’t. Nothing has.

Not the whiskey. Not the fresh air—which I used to enjoy with Eden. Not knowing she’s finally home and safe.

Maybe that should be enough for me. But instead, all I can remember is the shock and fucking horror on her face when I called her my wife.

If only I had walked in a few minutes later. Maybe she would have already shattered the mirror and could have used a shard to end my miserable life.

“You’re still here.”

I don’t move at Rohan’s voice. Instead, I pick up the bottle on the side table next to me, noting it’s empty.

“Kieran.” He plucks the bottle and glass from my hand, and I let my gaze slide back to the window. The sun is up now, reminding me that time is still moving even if I wish it weren’t. “Did you sleep?”

The words barely register. I’m more focused on the lack of weight in my hand. It’s been hours since I haven’t held a drink, and I glance toward his bar, itching to grab a new bottle.

Besides, I don't need to answer. I haven’t slept in practically a week, barely eaten during that time. He knows I was too focused on finding Eden, and after the absolute disaster yesterday was, that hasn’t changed.

Rohan sighs. Distantly, I register his footsteps leading away from me. That is the reason I came straight here after I left the room Eden is in. If I was at Lochlan’s, he’d be more inclined to make me talk, and I’m not interested.

Rohan is more likely to pull a gun on me than make me share. He’d taken one look at me when I started raiding his bar last night, told me not to break anything, and left me to it.

A cool glass is pressed into my hand, and I furrow my brow as I look down at it. “That’s not whiskey.”

Rohan snorts. “No. It’s water. Drink it.”

I frown. “You have plenty of whiskey to spare.”

“And I think that you are mostly made of it right now. You reek.” He taps the glass. “Drink it.”

I don’t feel like arguing. My mind is too muddled to even care as I tip my head back and drain the entire thing like I have been doing with alcohol all night.

“Can you stomach food?”

I squint up at him, looking at him for the first time since he entered the sitting room. “Why are you fussing?”

I expect him to tell me to fuck off. But he’s watching me with a deep frown, one that looks more concerned than pissed. “Jude is on his way over. I know that you would rather drink all day, but unfortunately, I’m going to need you to at least pretend you are sober.”

“Why?” I’ve drunk more with Jude before. And Rohan is usually the last one to say something about anyone’s drinking.