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I roll my eyes before closing them and settling my head back against the edge of the tub.
“Why did your dad and Sasha say you get really sick after drinking?”
“Because I do.”
“Are you feeling alright now?”
“Well, I’ve already vomited three times and I’m thinking very hard about not doing it again. Hangovers are not the same for me as they are for other people.”
“How so?”
“It starts with vomiting, followed by a two day long migraine, and then rounds out with more vomiting from the migraine.”
“That sounds fucking horrible. Why do you drink if it causes all this trouble?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t doubt it if I was allergic to alcohol or something like that.” I roll my head on the edge of the tub and open my eyes. To my surprise, Ringer is propped against the side of the tub, staring at me. “I very rarely drink. It only happens when I really have a reason or I’m hanging out with the girls, which isn’t often since I have a whole business to run.”
“Oh shit, do you need me to go do anything?”
I smile. “It’s nice of you to offer, but nah. I texted Mikey. He and Allison have it handled.”
“So why were you throwing them back last night? I can tell something was bothering you.”
“Fucking Renee,” I scoff, laying my head back and settling my eyes on a spot on the ceiling.
Ringer brings his hand to the edge of the tub and pulls my wet, pruned hand into his. “What happened?”
“I just hate her,” I sigh and close my eyes, not wanting to find pity in his. The memory of the way he used to look at me when I was little as he watched my mom have one of her tantrums still haunts me. His mom was the best. She was somotherly.I never had that with Renee.
“What happened, Princess?” he asks softly.
I let out an audible exhale and tell him about the interaction from the day before. “I feel weak. I fucking hate that it hurts me. I can’t stand that she gets to me. And it’s like she knows it,” I whisper.
“That doesn't make you weak. That’s normal, babe. She’s your mom.”
“I’ve never been good enough, and I never will be.”
“Princess, look at me.”
I turn my gaze on his as he searches my face, his brow furrowed over his serious stare. “What did I tell you on your twelfth birthday when you were moping around because Renee had called you worthless yet again?”
“That I’m enough for you.”
“Exactly. You are enough just as you fucking are. Don’t let some fucking bitch challenge your worth just because she’s your bitch ass mom.”
I giggle at his description for her and squeeze his hand. “Thank you.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
At my curious glance he smiles.
“I’ll always be here to pick you back up. Always have been, and that isn’t stopping.”
“Well, minus the eight years you refused to talk to me.”
He lifts his free hand to squeeze the back of his neck uncomfortably. “You didn’t need to see me like that.”
“What? In prison? It wasn’t a secret that you were there.”
