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She was just like her father in that sense. And just like that, the thought of my brother threw me back to that night. The police came knocking down my damn door with their pitiful glances and urgent messages, and I’d been too high on painkillers to even register what the fuck they were saying.

“Alphabet! Alphabet! Alphabet!”

“Okay. But just once,” I said.

“A, B, C, D, E, F, G… H, I, J, K—”

“‘Elenemo pee’!”

“Q, R, S, T, U, V—”

“‘Double doo lex, I, and bees’!”

“Now I know my ABC’s, next time won’t you sing with me?”

Liam clapped his hands while I cradled Hadley close to my chest. I pressed a kiss to his forehead as he hunkered down underneath his blanket, then I started out of his room and down the hallway.

The night my brother and sister-in-law died in that damn car accident had ch

anged my world forever. It not only dropped two kids in my lap, but it also shined a light onto the sad reality of my addiction. In high school, I injured my back playing football. My fucking tackles didn’t know what the hell they were doing, and I got sacked.

But when the guy from the other team hit me, he twisted my torso a little too much.

I came down on the side of my back and hit a damn rock, because the school apparently didn’t check for shit like that. I cracked ribs and ripped muscle to the point that it took three damn surgeries before I was even remotely back to normal.

Back then, though, I was resilient. Back then, I prided myself on not having to take painkillers. The girls in my high school fucking ate up my story, and I slayed more pussy than I ever had up to that point. And they were all on top so they wouldn’t ‘hurt me.’ It was the life.

“Okay, Hadley. It’s time for bed.”

I slipped the tiny girl into her crib before I placed a kiss on her forehead. She was sleeping soundly, with her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted. While she was awake, she looked just like my sister-in-law, but asleep, she was a spitting image of my brother. A stab of pain hit me square in the chest, and for a second, it hurt to breathe.

“Uncle Evan?”

Whipping my head up, I looked over at the doorframe of Hadley’s room. The little boy I’d just bedded down was rubbing his eyes and dragging a blanket behind him. I tucked Hadley in before I left the room, then I shut the door behind me before I turned my sights back to him.

“Liam, what are you doing up?”

“Water?” he asked.

“No more water. You’ve already had a glass. If you have any more, you’ll pee straight through your diaper.”

“But… water.”

His lip began to tremble, and I scooped the two-year old up into my arms. I needed to get his tantrum away from Hadley before he woke her, and I knew it was coming. The tears would start before his legs started to kick, and then he’d escalate to screaming if I still didn’t give him what he wanted.

“Water,” he said, sniffling.

“Not this late,” I said.

“Water, Uncle Evan!” he exclaimed.

“Sorry, buddy, no more water.”

The crying struck up just as I got him into his room, and I shut the door behind me to mute it. I slid the boy back into bed just as his legs started flailing, and I did what I could to tuck him back in. Liam’s cries echoed off the corners of the room, and I prayed they didn’t wake Hadley. These were the times I was still out of my element, still in uncharted waters. Every time I thought I had it down with these kids, something changed, and I didn’t know how to react. I felt the stress of the moment overwhelming my body, and my hands began to shake.

It was times like these that I could still taste those pills on my tongue.

“I want water!”

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