AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Maybe an hour and a half ago? He was on his way to your house, and said he would probably sleep there tonight. Why?”
“He never came back. I mean he did, he dropped off my things, but then he left.”
“Well, he was pretty rattled when he called me. Maybe he just needs to pull himself together.”
“Maybe,” Elizabeth said, even though she knew in her gut that this had nothing to do with her injury. He’d been with her since it happened, and although he’d initially been frightened, he’d calmed once he’d seen that she was fine. “I just wish he would answer his phone.”
“I'll find him, and I'll tell him to get his butt back to the hospital,” Georgiana said. “He’s probably just a little freaked out.”
“Thanks, Georgie.”
“No thanks necessary. I'll check in with you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.”
* * *
Will walkedinto his townhouse in Boston and tossed his keys onto the small table in the foyer. He continued up the stairs to the second floor without breaking stride and went straight to his office. Once there, he walked to the wet bar, pulled out a bottle of whiskey, and poured himself a drink. He tossed it back and immediately poured another, downing the second just as quickly as the first. He took a deep breath as he felt a slow warmth spread through his chest and stomach, and after pouring the third, he walked to his desk chair and sat down heavily, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.
Images of the photos he’d found in Elizabeth's dresser came crashing into his head, and he pinched the bridge of his nose to try and force them away. When he opened his eyes, they came to rest on the picture of her that he kept on his desk, her face luminous, and her green eyes smiling.Thisis what he wanted to see when he closed his eyes, not those other pictures.
But it was too late. Her beautiful face had been replaced by that bastard’s smirk, taunting and mocking. And there was no mistaking it; it was him.In her bed.
He lifted the glass to his lips, downed the third whiskey, and breathed in deeply through his nose as the liquid burned its way down to his stomach. She’d taken his heart and his trust and hadcrushedthem. Everything he’d worried about, everything he’d feared, and every reason he’d ever had for never letting anyone too close, had suddenly become his reality. He rose and walked to the bar, grabbed the bottle, and returned to his desk to pour another.
Turning to alcohol wasn’t his style. Even when everything had happened with Georgiana, he never tried to drink it away. Instead he’d bought two heavy bags, hung one here and one in the basement in New Seabury, and frequently punched the shit out of them. It was either that, or he'd get on the treadmill and run for miles, until he was too exhausted to think.
But this time, he knew no amount of exhaustion would help. This time, it was going to take a solid whiskey binge, a good drunken stupor, to obliterate his thoughts. He just needed to close his eyes and not see George Wickham’s face.
Or hers.
Eventually, his mind began merging the photos he’d seen of Georgie with those he’d seen tonight, and again, he had to quell the urge to vomit. Elizabeth had beenwithhim, the man who’d assaulted his sister.
He roughly rubbed his eyes, trying to erase the images from his mind, and heard his phone ring. He pulled it from his pocket, his movements already clumsy as his body responded to the rapid onslaught of liquor. He saw Charles’s name on the caller ID and ignored it. He knew Elizabeth would be wondering where he was and would be trying to reach him. He’d left her at the hospital, alone and injured, and he was suddenly consumed with guilt. But as quickly as it surfaced, he forced it away.
After the ringing stopped, he glanced at his phone and saw that he’d missed nine calls. Four were from the same number—the hospital, he assumed. Two were from Georgiana, and the last three were from Charles. He'd had the music up so loud in the car he never heard his phone, but it didn't matter. He wouldn't have answered it anyway.
Georgiana was a concern; he didn't want her to worry. He would have to call her, and better now than when he was completely hammered. The fourth whiskey went down like water, and he waited a minute or so before calling.
“Will?”
“Hey, Georgie.”
“Where are you? Elizabeth is worried.”
He closed his eyes as the pleasant buzz of the alcohol kicked in. “I had to get out of there.”
“What do you mean? Where are you?”
“I just went for a drive.” The words were difficult to form, and seemed to take a long time to say.
“Are youdrunk?”
“Not yet.”
“What’s going on?”
He closed his eyes again, and when he spoke, it was with barely controlled emotion. The booze was really soaking in now, taking control of his tongue.
