Page 110 of Collateral Damage
Until now.
Because he’s with Sybil. They’re not dating, but Arden made it obvious they’re fucking, which might be worse.
The bar idea would’ve been fine if I didn’t get wasted. I planned to find a woman and have some fun, but after Arden’s bombshell, I couldn’t bring myself to care. So I sat at the bar, slinging drinks until the bartender cut me off and insisted I find a ride home. I don’t remember much after that, but I must’ve caught an Uber or something.
My stomach churns with regret.
I know I have problems with alcohol.
I want to be sober and have good bouts of sobriety here and there, but I haven’t quite been able to cut it out of my life. It’s my favorite crutch.
Rolling out of bed, I try not to let self-talk get too disparaging as I make my way downstairs. At least Dad and wifey number three have left the island. I don’t think I could face a lecture from him with this headache.
Ethan is at the kitchen table when I amble downstairs, looking like sunshine is radiating from his ass. He’s ridiculously in love. Not sure how it’s all going to play out for them once they return to Manhattan, but I’m happy for him.
“Look at you,” I say, shooting him a withering smile. “All lovey and shit.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Look at you, all hungover and shit.”
I groan and head to the medicine cabinet first and then the refrigerator. I need fast caffeine, and a diet whatever-I-can-find will have to do.
“I take it you’re not up for surfing today.”
“I’m not up for anything today.”
Ethan nods. “How about sailing tomorrow? I want to go out with you one last time before we head to the city.”
“Aww,” I tease. “Brotherly love.”
We only have two days before work owns us again. Our legacy hangs on us, showing up like our father does—professional, driven, cutthroat, and willing to do anything for King.
“Tomorrow sounds good,” I promise. “Today I sleep.”
I balance a glass of water, a can of Coke, a bottle of medicine, and a blueberry muffin in my arms as I leave the kitchen. Ethan is hot on my trail.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He follows me to my bedroom and hovers in the doorway with his arms crossed. Sometimes I hate having a brother who cares about my wellbeing more than I do.
“You drank too much last night,” he says. “I thought you weren’t doing that anymore.”
“Well, shit. Nothing like being called out first thing in the morning.”
“I mean it, Coop. What gives?”
My jaw tenses, and I give myself a moment to collect my thoughts as I set everything on the dresser and down the pills first. Ethan stares at me expectantly.
“So? I drank too much last night.” I sit on the edge of the bed and rub my thumbs into my temples. “What do you want me to say?”
“Look, Cooper, I’m not judging you.”
I snort. “Youarejudging me.”
He sits next to me. “Like I said, I’m worried about you.”
I’m tired of people being worried about me. So what if I got hammered last night? I beat myself up about it enough on my own. I don’t need Ethan to do it, too.
