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I just nodded as we stepped into the kitchen. I trusted Drake with my life.
Mom and Aunt Emmie had been talking until we walked in. As soon as they saw me, they both shut up quick, but I was too distracted from the pain in my head and the new aches in my body to focus on that. Drake left me at the island and moved to the refrigerator to pull out random things. Tomato juice, eggs, celery and countless other things.
“You look miserable, baby,” Mom said with a smile as she picked up a knife and started slicing onions.
“Pretty sure I’m dying,” I mumbled truthfully, causing all three of them to laugh out loud at me.
“I’m sure it feels like that,” Mom said with a grin as she hugged me. “Drake will fix you up. Just a small warning. It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”
I folded my arms on the island and laid my head down. “I’m never drinking again.”
“Good idea,” Drake said with a nod.
“Can I have some aspirin?”
“You won’t need
it after Drake is done,” Aunt Emmie assured me as she continued to slice fresh tomatoes. “Just be ready to run.”
That only confused me, but I didn’t bother to move, especially when Mom started rubbing my back. I hadn’t been babied like that in forever, but I wanted to soak it all up. My mom gave the best back rubs in the world.
“Okay, Lu.” Drake set a glass of something that looked like tar in front of me. I lifted my head reluctantly and as soon as I caught a smell of the contents my gag reflex started working overtime.
“No,” I said, backing away from the island. “No way.”
Drake picked the glass up and walked toward me. “Do you trust me?”
“Usually. I’m not so sure about right now, though.”
His blue-gray eyes crinkled with his grin. “I’d never do anything to hurt you, Lu. Angel would kill me.”
“So that’s the only reason?” I crossed my arms over my chest, pouting up at him. “I see how it is.”
“I love you more than life, girl. Now drink this shit.” He pushed the glass into my hand and then took a cautious step back. “Just chug it. Get it all over with in one go.”
“Fudge buckets,” I muttered and lifted the glass to my lips. My stomach churned again at the smell, but I tipped it back and started gulping it down.
It tasted worse than it smelled, the contents both liquid and chunky as it slid down my throat. My stomach protested immediately but I kept drinking until it was all gone.
Thankfully someone was there to take the glass from me as the need to vomit became too much. Slapping my hand over my mouth, I made a run for the downstairs bathroom. How the hell was that shit supposed to help me? I couldn’t help but wonder as I threw up everything in my stomach. Fuck, I was really going to die this time. My stomach cramped so hard that I fell to my knees beside the toilet, moaning and mentally praying that at least one of Aunt Emmie’s gods would take pity on me and just end me then and there.
I felt a rough hand touch my back but couldn’t turn my head to glare at my brother-in-law. Another spasm took over and I groaned as I puked over and over again.
“I. Hate. You.” Sweat was beaded across my forehead, my nose was running and I was pretty sure there was vomit on Kin’s shirt.
Drake kept rubbing my back with one hand and kept my hair pulled back from my face with the other. When at last it seemed like I was completely empty of the poison I’d just ingested, he produced a cool washcloth and wiped my face. A vision of Harris doing just that the night before had me gasping with a new kind of pain, and tears burned my eyes.
“There, now. All better.” Drake tapped me on the nose like I’d seen him doing to his girls when he was trying to soothe them, and offered me a grim smile. “I’m not going to lecture you on drinking so much, Lucy. That would make me the worst kind of hypocrite, but I’m going to ask you to be careful in the future. Don’t overdo it, sweetheart.”
I blinked back the tears and nodded. “Don’t worry. That’s the first and last time I do something like that, I promise.”
He nodded, that grim smile still on his face, his eyes looking almost haunted. “I hope so, Lu. I really hope so.”
I wanted to reassure him that I wouldn’t, but I couldn’t think of anything to say that would do that. I hadn’t been so young that I didn’t remember what Drake had been like when he’d been battling his demons with alcohol. I didn’t need the booze to help me through my own demons.
No, my form of self-medication was a lot worse.
Chapter 9
