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“It’s not a run, princess. He’s wasted and refusing to leave the bar. He’s harassing Jimmy’s customers.”
“Again?” Saoirse whispers, her facial features softening with worry.
I nod, climbing out of bed to toss on jeans and a shirt. “I’ll get him in bed and be right back, okay?”
She sighs but dips her chin in acknowledgment. When I’m dressed, I round the corner to press a kiss on her forehead. “Go back to sleep, baby. I’ll be home soon.”
“Bring back some muffins.” She yawns, getting comfortable under the covers again. “And a blueberry latte.”
I growl, hating that Corbin introduced her to that drink, and she lets out a giggle, knowing she’s just pissed me off.
I get to O’Doul’s in record time and find Declan singing at the bar. Jimmy is glaring at him, a rag tossed over his shoulder while a few customers boo at Declan and tell him to shut the fuck up.
“Hey man,” I say, approaching the bar.
Declan spins, grinning at me. “Scotty. What’s up, brother?”
I sigh in relief. At least we’ve got a happy drunk. Sometimes Declan can get aggressive. Scratch that. Most of the time Declan is an aggressive drunk. His hand clamps down on my shoulder, squeezing it in greeting.
“Hey, man. Bar is closing. Let’s get you home, okay?”
Declan shakes his head. “No. I’m not ready to go home.” His face darkens, and he turns back to Jimmy. “Another,” he says, waving his empty beer glass in the air.
“You’re cut off,” I say. “Jimmy’s worried about you. So, he called me.”
Declan sighs. He presses his fists to the bar top and stumbles when he stands. I reach out, catching him. “Fine. I’ve got stuff at home. I just didn’t wanna be alone, you know?”
I barely make out his words through the slurs. “What’s wrong, buddy? Why don’t you want to be alone?” I wrap his arm around my neck, stabilizing him as we head for the exit.
“Thanks, Scotty!” Jimmy calls.
I toss a hand over my shoulder to acknowledge him. Declan stumbles over the lip of the threshold, practically making me fall with him.
“Christ. How much have you had to drink?”
“Not enough.” He doubles over, making a sickening gagging sound.
“Oh, dude. I swear if you puke in my car, I will drop you at the bottom of the Charles.”
“A nap with the fishes.” He pukes everywhere, not giving a shit that we’re in the middle of the walkway. “Sounds wonderful. Let’s go.”
“Shut up and get in the car,” I huff.
He kicks off his vomit-covered sneakers, leaving them where they are, then makes his way toward the parked car in front of us. I hit the unlock button on the key fob just in time for him to rip open the passenger door.
“Calm down, big guy.”
He shoots me a scold over the car. I round it to make sure he gets in and buckled. Then, I round back to the driver’s side and climb in, starting up the Hellcat. The engine roars to life, and my chest hums with the sound, despite this shitty night. Having to wake up in the middle of the night to save my wife’s brother from picking a fight is far from being on my list of things I want to do.
“Dec,” I sigh, pulling into the street. “I thought we stopped this.”
He grumbles, looking out of the windshield. I don’t miss the way his fists clench. His cheeks are beet red, but they normally are after he’s been drinking so much. So I can’t be sure if it’s alcohol or anger.
“It’s not healthy to keep drinking so much. Forget the fact that it’s reckless and that if our enemies know they can find you on a barstool, wasting away, they can use that to hurt the family. This is about your mental and physical health.”
“Mental health?” He lets out a boisterous laugh. “My mental health has been fucked since the day Cara killed herself, Scotty. I’ll never get any sort of clarity.”
My throat dries at the mention of her name. I grip the steering wheel tighter. “Then you need to seek professional help, not the bottom of the bottle.”
