Page 22 of Sunrise Arrows

“I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” she answers before puking again.

I get Briar into her bed, laying her on her side with a leg dropped and bent forward and the trash can from the attached bath on the floor beside her. I time her breaths for a minute to check for signs of alcohol poisoning, and when it appears she’s in the clear, I head back downstairs.

Through the crack in the bathroom door, I see Tinsley’s kicked off boots. Gently, I knock on the door, it creaking open just a bit more.

“Tinsley?”

“Go away, Archer.”

“I can’t leave you alone like this,” I murmur, pushing open the door. Inside, she’s a heap on the patterned tile floor with her arms wrapped around the toilet and her cheek resting on the rim.

Tears are freely falling from her ashen face.

“I don’t need you.”

“I know,” I laugh mirthlessly. “Trust me, I fuckin’ know that.” I sit down and pull her hair back from where it’s fallen in front of her shoulders. With the thick mass of wilting strands gathered in one hand, I smooth my other along the slope of her spine. “But since I’m here, let me take care of you.”

It’s sudden and violent when she pukes again, weeping through the dry heaves as she fumbles around for the toilet handle.

When she’s done and slumped back over, I rip a wad of toilet paper from the roll and wipe her mouth, tossing it in.

“What’s your wife going to say when you get home?” she mumbles, eyes heavy.

For the life of me, I can’t place where in the world she got the idea that I’m married. I don’t have a ring or even a tan line of one. Hell, I’m not even dating anybody. It’s such an absurd assumption or miscommunication that I can’t help the laugh I let out.

“I’m not married.”

“Fine, girlfriend,” she wrongly corrects. “I mean, I’d be pissed as a wet cat if my, whatever y’all are, was out in the middle of the night with a woman who wishes she was still fucking him.”

That’s a sobering confession. One I hadn’t expected from her and has my chest feeling light as air. But she’s drunk. It doesn’t count. So I let that airy bubble of sudden elation and dangerous hope float away.

“I don’t have one of those either.”

More tears roll down her cheeks and I try to catch them, wiping them from her pretty face. I hate when she cries. Her tears make the honey in her eyes glow and shine. It would be beautiful if not for the false warmth they give off.

She sniffles and blinks, freeing more. Her voice is a soft stutter.

“But you have Ellie and God is she beautiful, Archer. She’s such a beautiful little girl. I’m happy you have her, really. I just wish…”

“What?” I whisper, welcoming her back against my chest as I lean against the wall and she follows. “What do you wish, Tinsley?”

She rests there for a moment, her breath turning slow, and I can’t help myself. I wrap my arm around her, lowering my chin to rest on her head.

I think she’s fallen asleep when her fingers trail over my watch, playing with the clasp. She pops it free and lets it slide further down my arm, exposing the tattoo that still lives there.

Her thumb caresses over the red ink, and I feel her soft touch along my whole body.

“I wish you had her with me.”

“Had who?”

“Ellie.”

She’s nearly asleep, and I don’t want to disturb her, but the laughter bubbles up in my chest, gently jostling her as I try to suppress it.

“Shortcake,” I murmur, tucking her hair back, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You’ve got it all wrong. Ellie is Ryder’s daughter. Not mine.”

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