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I froze. Evie hadn’t been home when I got home tonight.
“What’s happened?”
“I got your girl down at the station, son. Picked her up on a drunk and disorderly call.”
“Is she okay?”
“We removed her from the ice rink. She’d had too much to drink. Rink guard told her she had to get off the ice because she was endangering the other patrons—kids and parents mostly, during an open-skating session. She tried to knock him over and then started doing dangerous jumps and stuff while inebriated. Fell at least once while we were trying to grab her. I would imagine she’s going to be sore tomorrow, and probably have a wallop of a headache, but she should be fine.”
I raked a hand through my hair. I’d just sat down to ice my own bruised hip after four days of games on the road. Going down to the police station and dealing with a drunk Evie was not what I felt like doing. I sighed. “Is she going to be released?”
“She’ll have to appear in court next week, but you can come get her when you’re ready.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant. I’ll be right there.”
It took both hands to push myself up off the couch, I was so banged up from last night’s game. Lately, I was starting to appreciate why the average player retired before thirty in this sport. I took my time driving down to the police station, and limped my way up to the front desk.
Joe Redmond was behind it. We’d gone to high school together.
“Hey, Cassidy.” He extended a hand. “Good to see you. Tough loss the other night.”
Considering my team had lost six out of our last seven games, I wasn’t sure which night he was talking about. But it didn’t much matter. I nodded. “Yep.”
“I think they should’ve ejected Hartman for that slashing crap he pulled.”
“Me too. If they had, my hip wouldn’t be screaming from the fight that came after he got out of the box.” I lifted my chin toward the door I knew led to the holding cells. “I’m here to pick up Evie Dwyer.”
“Give me a minute. I’ll grab her from the drunk tank.” He started to walk back, but stopped. “I should warn you, she puked all over herself. Might want to throw a blanket down in the car. It’s hard to get that smell out once it gets into the seats.”
“Great,” I mumbled.
A few minutes later, Evie ambled out from the back. Mascara stains streaked her cheeks, and her shirt was still damp with what I assumed was vomit. She looked at me and her big hazel eyes welled up. “I’m sorry.”
I ignored her and spoke to Joe. “She need to fill out paperwork or anything?”
“Nope. She’s good to go. She’s got the citation with her court appearance date folded in her purse.”
“Thanks, Joe.”
“Good luck.”
I wasn’t sure if he was referring to the rest of the season or Evie, but I could use all the help I could get with both.
Outside, I opened the truck door and made sure Evie was inside before shutting it. I still hadn’t said a word to her. I slipped my key into the ignition, but stopped shy of turning it. “What the fuck, Evie?”
She started to cry. Normally I was a sucker for a woman and tears, but I was all out of sympathy these days.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I do what I do.”
That was a cop out and pissed me off even more. “Well, maybe I can clue you in on why the hell you’re acting the way you are. Because youleft rehab after five days when they wanted you to stay for thirty.”
Six months ago, after I’d come home to Evie swimming in the lake and vomiting in the flowerbeds, she’d agreed to go to rehab. None of the decent facilities had any beds available, so she’d had to wait two days to check in, and I was going to be away for a game the afternoon she was due to show up. She’d promised to go, but she never did. Instead, I came home to a clean house and a sober Evie—a combination I hadn’t seen in months. I don’t think I even realized how bad things had gotten until that day, when coming home to what should’ve felt normal wasn’t even familiar anymore. Ever since she’d moved in, she’d gotten herself into a vicious cycle of binging for three or four days while I was traveling, and then sleeping it off for a day or two when I got home. So either she was a mess, or she was crashed in bed.
She stayed sober for two weeks that time, and I’d actually seen a glimpse of the woman I’d met at the ice rink almost a year earlier. But then she’d slipped up, and things went back to the same old shitshow real fast. After another month-long binge, I sat her down and gave her a choice: me or the tequila. The following day I drove her to rehab. But after a five-day detox, she signed out against the doctor’s advice while I was on the road again. She’d said she felt like she could do the rest on her own. She’d hated being there because the older women all reminded her of her mother. I didn’t agree with the decisions, but she was good for almost two months after that. Until she wasn’t.
I shook my head. “I can’t live like this anymore, Evie.”
“What are you saying?”
