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That’s when I’d gone in search of the alcohol. It was the only thing that gave me any measure of peace but it never lasted long. Maybe if I’d been willing to give up my monitoring of Seth all together, I could have drowned myself completely with the mind-numbing liquid, but I’d been too afraid that something would happen to Seth and I wouldn’t be there to protect him.
Like I hadn’t been able to protect Trace.
I’d felt only shame yesterday when Seth had spied the alcohol on my nightstand, even though I had no reason to since Seth didn’t know anything about my history with it. The only other time I’d relied on alcohol to numb me was in the weeks following Trace’s death and I’d gone a step further and made it part of a lethal combination with the painkillers the doctors had prescribed after I was discharged. Hawke was the only one who’d seen me in that time and I suspected he’d noticed my downward spiral in the last several days as he and I met up to switch shifts watching Seth. He’d finally told me to go back to the motel a couple days ago to get some rest when I’d been too out of it to do Seth any good if something were to happen. I had no doubt that Hawke was well aware that my lack of sleep wasn’t the only thing that had me bleary eyed and confused. I’d managed to sober up somewhat before Seth’s arrival, but only because I’d just woken up a half an hour earlier and hadn’t had the chance to lose myself in my bottle again.
My negative relationship with alcohol had been something I’d struggled with my entire life, though I hadn’t been the one with the problem. While I’d always hesitated to label my father an alcoholic, there was no doubt that’s what he’d been. Of course, there hadn’t been anyone around to ask if he’d always been that way since my mother had died giving birth to me and the aunt who’d raised me for the first few years of my life had been killed in a car accident just before I’d turned five. I’d been too young to understand the dynamics of my family but I’d learned very quickly the penalty for referring to the woman who’d raised me as “Mommy.”
It was the first of many times that my father took his fury at my perceived role in my own mother’s death out on me. But as the years passed, his rage turned into something else…something that often had me missing the beatings. Because those bruises had healed…the ones he’d inflicted on my soul hadn’t.
“You okay?”
Seth’s question knocked me out of the past. “Yeah, why?” I asked as I glanced at him. His eyes fell to my hands and I realized I’d reverted to my habit of tapping my fingers together. I had no idea at what age I’d started doing it but to this day, it was a vice I just couldn’t shake, mostly because I never even realized I was doing it. It had driven my father crazy but no amount of slaps or punches had broken me of the habit.
“Yeah,” I said as I separated my hands and rested one of my arms on the armrest between me and Seth. “Just wishing I’d had time to grab some coffee,” I said lamely, hoping the excuse would satisfy him.
“I told you we had to leave at five sharp to make it to the terminal in time,” Seth murmured. “They have coffee on the ferry,” he added, his voice sounding lighter than it had since I’d shown up over a week ago.
The idea of being friends with Seth was such a foreign and seemingly absurd concept to me considering everything that had happened between us, but in the twelve hours since I’d moved back into the guest room, I’d seen a different side of Seth. Sure, there was the initial awkwardness between us when I’d joined him for dinner, but then he’d starting talking to me about inconsequential things and I’d felt myself relaxing once I realized he wasn’t asking me about anything more personal than what types of movies I liked and if I’d read the latest book in a detective series that his favorite author had written. When I’d said I hadn’t, he’d gone on and on about the speculation over what had happened to the main character who’d been stuffed in the trunk of a car that went over a cliff at the end of the most recent book. He’d become so animated in telling me all about Detective Nick Archer and his troubles, that I’d ignored what remained of my dinner and just sat back in my chair to watch his excited hand gestures as he spoke.
