Page 89 of The Best of Us

I nodded.

“And, Letty?”

“Yeah?”

“If the man does hurt you or break your heart or Colin’s?—”

“I know, I know.” My turn to roll my eyes. “Jet plane over here. Etcetera, etcetera.”

“Precisely.” He smiled. “Love ya, sis. Later.” He ended the call before I could tell him back, and I set aside my phone and checked to see if my legs would hold my weight this time.

Deciding to disobey Constantine’s orders, I snuck into his office for another drink. Still in the clear, I hurried to his bar and poured two shots.

“Call go that well, huh?”

I guiltily lowered the glass to my side and turned around.

He was standing at the threshold of the office, a shoulder propped against the interior doorframe, eyes on me. He surprised me before I could answer. “Go ahead.”

Worried he’d change his mind and convince me to make smarter choices, I swallowed half the glass in one swig. Like before, the liquid burned my throat and hurt my chest, but it eased the aching pain there, too.

Long strides carried him my way as I continued to sip more. He stopped before me, quietly watching as I finished it. I added more to the glass and knocked that back, too. No need to tell him I’d already had some before the call.

He gently took hold of my wrist when I went for another. “No more,” he said firmly. “It’ll hurt me too much to see you sick and be powerless to take away your pain.”

Chapter26

Constantine

“I feelrelaxed for the first time since?—”

“Since I came back into your life?” I cut her off, hating the bitterness in my voice, but it was a gut-shot response to knowing the call with her brother had her shooting whiskey.

“Artificially relaxed, I should say,” she amended. “It’s safe to blame my son getting into trouble for my tensed state, along with?—”

“Yourson?” I did it again, interrupted her like an asshole.

Her mouth rounded with displeasure; I didn’t blame her.

Iwasbeing an asshole. Ready to push her away before she could shut the inevitable door in my face.

Push her away so she’d take back her words to me before that call, words I’d die to hear again:You don’t think I’ve spent these last seventeen years dreaming about one day bumping into the man who gave me the best night of my life, never mind the miracle of our son?

That question would haunt me for the next seventeen years.AfterI lost her again. Because why wouldn’t I lose her? Why wouldn’t I be given a glimpse of peace only to have it stolen from me, relegating me to spend eternity knowing what could have beenif only.

“I’m sorry. It was a slip of the tongue.” She reached for my arm and lightly squeezed it. “Our son. He’sourson.”

“No, I’m sorry.” I stared down at her delicate fingers resting on my forearm, right on top of a burn mark—a brand that asshole . . .Fuck, I couldn’t think about that. “I don’t know how to process what I’m feeling since you came back into my life. It’s safe to say relaxed is the last thing I’ve been since Colin stole my wallet.”

I bared down on my teeth, shocked again at how easily the truth came out when she was around, especially when no amount of pushing by my family over the years had successfully gotten me to talk.

“You know how they say the stages of grief are linear? Well, I think they’re actually one big, unpredictable, messy blob. And I believe the same is true for this. For us. For our son.” Her soft tone had me finally looking up at her. “But for you, you’re grieving the loss of sixteen years with your son. You have to work through that. The denial and anger.” She sniffled. “All those things at once. While also wanting to be happy because we’re here now in front of you. You don’t know how to make sense of your feelings, and you’re confused.” She lightly nodded, one lone tear slipping down her cheek. “So yeah, it’s a big, blobby mess. To be upset is perfectly normal, even for a strong guy like you.” She wet her lips, and I tracked the movement.

“And to want to kiss you the next minute, too, is that normal?” I rasped, dipping in closer to her, feeling a little dizzy myself. I was on the verge of having afuck itmoment, but I stopped just short of letting my mouth touch hers at the memory she’d been drinking. “I’m sorry.” I straightened, pulling my arm away to rub my eyes to stop the emotions from breaking free. “I ruined your relaxed state. I’m sorry for that, too.”

“No,” she breathed out, “you didn’t. Alcohol is stronger than I am. It’ll take me down soon, and I’ll be powerless to stop it.”

I dropped my hand away from my eyes, worried about her. “What will happen beyond being relaxed?” Would she be as out of it as Alessandro on meds? I needed to focus on taking care of her, not let the bourbonIdrank affect me.

---