Page 37 of Rough
“Don’t. Let’s just get another drink,” Wilder warns, so I just nod once and try to ignore what’s happening outside.
“Whiskey,” I rasp out, shoving their hands off me. We spend the next three hours at the bar, and I don’t slow down once, drowning my anger and disbelief over Betsy’s betrayal.
Half an hour after we stumble out of the bar, Clyde just as drunk as I am, Wilder pushes us toward the SUV we drove here. Thank God he’s sober enough to drive, but I know he’s just as furious as I am. Doesn’t take any amount of alcohol to be feeling it this deeply.
“I wanna see Zeus,” I slur out. Leaning my head against the window, I chuckle when Clyde’s snoring rings out from the back. We’ve barely begun the drive home. “Zeus,” I say again, punching Wilder in the arm.
“Should probably get you boys home. You’re drunker than a skunk.”
“Zeus first. Gotta see my boy.”
Sighing, Wilder drives us to Betsy’s farm, parking on the street so she doesn’t know we’re here. All the lights are off in the house, which is a good thing because I don’t want to see her right now, either.
Pulling Clyde out of the back, he jerks awake enough to stumble behind us as we sneak our way toward the horse barn and slip inside. It’s difficult to read the names of the horses on the stalls as I work my way down the center of the barn. Eventually, though, I find my boy and lean heavily against his door.
“Hey, buddy.” He just looks at me but doesn’t come closer as I hang my arm over the top, wiggling my fingers for him to come closer. Scowling, I glare and attempt to snap my fingers. “Com’on, man. Don’t be a traitor. Come see me.”
Still ignoring me, I shove away and spin to face my best friends. “Fuckin’ Zeus don’t even wannaseeme.”
“Sperm.”
Both Wilder and I look over at Clyde, who’s leaning against a wall, pointing somewhere behind us.
Wilder starts laughing his ass off, but I’m just left confused. “The fuck areyouthinkin’ about right now, man?” he asks, but Clyde only shoves his finger harder behind us.
“That’s the sperm.”
“What…” I trail off, looking around until I see what he’s pointing at. It’s a circular silver freezer. Stumbling closer, I try to read what it says on the label plate, but it’s too dark and I’m too drunk.
Pulling the top off, then opening it up, Wilder stands back between us and we study the vials once the cloud of cold clears. Cocking his head to the side, he mutters, “Looks fancier in the dark than it did the other day. Expensive.”
“Fuck that,” I growl, then step forward and rip the massive plug from the wall. The lights on it go out and we just stare in shock as the motor immediately dies down.
Clyde is leaning against Wilder now, his eyes half lidded, and he mumbles, “Wanna go to the pond.”
“Jesus. You two need to go to fuckin’ bed. We should probably plug it back in, though. Maybe it’s not such a good idea.”
“Pond,” Clyde bites out, and I couldn’t agree more. I don’t want to go home yet, not like this. But Idowant to pet my horse before we go.
I drag the other two away from the freezer toward the door and back to the stalls. I have no idea how long I spend with my head pressed against my horse’s neck, or how I got into his stall, but eventually Wilder pulls me away.
Sighing, I let him lead me out. “Definitely need the pond. Let’s sober up before we go home, yeah?”
“Fine. But you both fuckin’ owe me for puttin’ up with your asses tonight.”
Helping us back into the vehicle, I close my eyes as Wilder drives us through the trails to the pond, continuously swallowing down the nausea from bouncing around in the back.
Bets has got to take better care of these trails. They were never this rough when we were living here.
“Oh, shit,” Wilder whispers once we come to a stop. Peeking an eye open, I look out the front window, then my eyes widen when I see the woman of the hour sitting on the grass, shielding her eyes from the bright lights.
Wrenching the door open, I ignore the way my body falls out of the front seat. I shuffle around and find my feet, then jab a finger in her direction.
“I wanna talk with you!” I shout, then march in her direction.
Chapter Fifteen
Betsy
