How much longer could I hide my pain from my mother? The fields needed tending, and the many chores needed completing.
Mom knew me as a workaholic. I didn’t even take afternoons off.
Three days in a row was bound to shove her headfirst from suspicions into hysteria.
The kitchen tiles were cold on my feet as I passed the spot where Hope had found me passed out and headed to the pantry. There, I found the bottle of whiskey that I’d bought a few months ago. The town might gossip about me but there were a few people on my side.
One of those people being the elderly, almost blind Mr. Dunback who ran the local bottle shop.
Even when I wasn’t legal drinking age, he went along as I handed him cash and kindly wrapped up the amber goodness in a brown paper bag.
It wasn’t like I drank to get drunk or to run from my life in a haze of alcohol. I drank because I liked the taste, and it was something of my own. Something no one else knew I indulged in now and again.
Pulling a glass from the cupboard, I splashed a healthy amount of whiskey into it, then opened the box of drugs prescribed by the doctor. Popping two out, doing my best not to take four like usual, I placed them on my tongue and swigged them back with a large mouthful of searing, spicy liquor.
I gasped, blinking away the sudden eye water and taking another sip for good measure.
“Oh, my God. Are you drinking?” A blur of movement dashed from the couch toward me.
My heart rate exploded, once again on high alert for a serial killer there to murder me.
But no.
It was just Hope.
Goddamn Hope who didn’t get the clue that she was not welcome.
Clutching my half-empty glass, I growled. “I thought I told you to leave.”
“And I told you I came to check on you.”
“Yeah, by waking me up and arguing with me. I’m pretty sure you established I was coherent enough to hold a conversation.”
She crossed her arms, her cheek showing indents of the lacy cushion Mom had thrown on my bare couch as homey decoration.
Wait, did she nap on my couch?
“I found you passed out yesterday morning. Did you honestly think I’d be able to sleep not knowing if the same would happen today?”
My toes dug into the tiles as my body tensed. “You took me to the hospital, remember? Against my wishes, I might add. I’m fine.”
She leaned forward, trying to snatch my whiskey. “Obviously, you’re not fine if you’re drinking.” Her prim sniff made annoyed amusement gather.
“My home. My rules.” I smirked. “Get over it or, better yet, leave.”
“I’m sure drinking is against the doctor’s orders.”
I groaned under my breath. “I’m not going to do this again.” I didn’t have the energy for another war. “You’ve seen that I’m still standing. You know where the door is. Goodbye.” Raising the glass to my lips, I barely earned a sip before she snatched it from my hold and tossed the entire thing into the sink.
The glass shattered. The whiskey spilled. I stood there gobsmacked.
Silence once again thickened as I gawked at the mess, then back at her. “I can’t decide if you’re deliberately trying to drive me insane or if it’s just a by-product of whatever spoiled world you’ve grown up in.” My voice vibrated with temper. “Just because you’re used to getting your own way all the time doesn’t mean you can manipulate, guilt, and berate me into doing things—”
“Shut up, Jacob.” She held up her hand, her patience as frayed as mine. “Just, please…shut up. I don’t want to keep fighting with you. I don’t want to argue. I’m just worried about you, and since you’ve sworn me to secrecy, it’s on me to take care of you.”
“It’s not on you at all. Did I ask you to play nursemaid?”
“That’s the thing.” Her face softened. “You don’t have to ask.”
“And you don’t get it. I didn’t ask because I don’t need someone lurking over me.”
“I’m not lurking.”
“Oh, you’re definitely lurking.” Grabbing some paper towels from under the sink, I scooped up the glass shards and tossed the mess into the trash. “I’m tired, Hope. I’m in pain. I agree that I don’t want to fight, so please, just leave me alone.”
Her shoulders fell as darkness gathered her close. If it hadn’t been for the stray stars picking up strands of copper and chocolate from her hair, it would’ve almost disappeared into the night. “If that’s truly what you want, I’ll go.”
“Great.” I perked up, the promise of a Hope free morning allowing me to be generous. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
She licked her lips. “I’ll go, but first, I need to ask two questions.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” I stiffened, already sensing that this eviction would take longer than I planned. “What part of—”