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How dare she try to return her wedding ring to me? How dare she think everything that happened between us is a sham? I should have known things were going to get messy the moment I set eyes on her. I should have walked away from her, but did I? Of course, not. Instead, I had appointed myself as her protector. I only have myself to blame for the predicament I’m in now.
I slam down the half-empty glass of whiskey on the bar in the living room. The thud resounds through my head, and I wince. Clearly, trying to get drunk is not doing any favors for the headache that has gathered behind my eyes. Well, fuck that. It’s the least I can do to drown out the thoughts that insist on crowding in on me.
She owes me her life, and how does she repay me? By asking me to leave... And what had I done? I had obliged her. Is that a sign of weakness? Have I become so pussy-whipped that I allowed her to dictate my actions?
I stare at the remnants of the amber liquid in the bottle. Golden and brown with sparks where the light from above hits the surface of the whiskey. Gleaming and complex and layered... Just like her.
She is the love of my life, and I let her get away. She is the only thing that makes sense in this bizarre twisted mess my life has become, and I allowed her to leave. I had turned and walked away from her again.
Why hadn’t I listened to her when she had tried to explain things to me at the house? Why had I been so quick to believe the worst of her?
I bring the glass of whiskey to my lips and chug down the rest of the contents. The alcohol burns its way down my gullet and explodes in my stomach. I can’t feel my hands and feet, which means I’m doing something right. Something that will, hopefully, shut down the regrets that pinch my chest, the heaviness that coils around my heart and squeezes until I’m sure that I’ll never feel the same way again.
Someone raps on the door to the living room before barging in. "Knock, knock, motherfucker."
Seb’s annoying voice cuts through the thoughts in my head.
"Lost your way?" I pour more whiskey into my glass, then some more, topping it up almost to the brim.
He whistles. "You sure you’ve had enough? There’s a little more room in the glass if you want to pour more into it."
"Ha, ha," I scoff, then survey the glass. "You may have a point there." I add to the glass until some of the amber liquid sloshes over the side. "Therrre," I slur, "is that betterrr?"
"I think you need to stop drinking, to be honest."
"Aww, come on, are you going to become all responsible and boring like ourfratellone?" I lean down to the bar and slurp from the overfull glass. To be fair, I’m over the whiskey already, especially since my head is spinning, and I am currently seeing two of Seb. But I don’t tell him that. Asshole would only bore me with another sermon, no doubt, about my shortcomings—of which I have many, as the events of the last day have shown.
"On the other hand, perhaps I should join you, eh?"
"Now that is a capital idea, brother." I reach for the bottle, but he stops me.
"I have a better idea." He slides another glass toward me, then reaches for mine.
I scowl. "What are you doing?"
"I don’t know if I can share your pain, but perhaps, I can share your drink?" He tugs on the glass, and when I release my hold on it, he pours almost half of my drink into his. A good portion ends up on the bar.
"I know what you’re doing." I chuckle.
"Oh, yeah?"
"You’re trying to stop me from getting drunk, aren’t you?"
"I think that ship has sailed," he laughs, "but yes, I’m trying to save you from alcohol poisoning."
"I don’t need your… your…" I squint at him, "your…"
"Sympathy?"
"Exactly." I take another sip of the whiskey. "I don’t need your symp… sympa…"
"Sympathy," he prompts.
"What-fucking-ever," I place my glass on the counter then stand up. The room tilts. Oops, wrong move. I grab the edge of the counter and steady myself. "What the fuck are you doing here anyway?"
"Michael was worried about you, so I decided to come by and take a look at what you were up to."
"And the rest of the family is—"
