“For you, maybe, not for Brock.”
Brock smiled. “You didn’t ruin it.”
She groaned. “I feel like I have whiskey running through my veins.”
Brock chuckled. “Well, six shots is a lot…for you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I, um…I should have Betty Jane call me a cab.”
“No, I’ll give you a ride home,” I stated. “We still have some talking to do.”
Merit rolled her eyes. “Fine, but only because it will kill my mother if I go home even slightly buzzed.”
“I’d probably get some food and coffee in her,” Brock suggested. “You need me to hang around? What about her car?”
Another groan slipped from Merit’s lips.
“Don’t worry, I’ll give Michael a call to come and get it.”
Merit was now sitting on the ground, her head between her legs.
Brock curled his lip. “You sure you want her to get into your truck? Dude, you know how she gets when she drinks.”
I nodded. “That was when she was seventeen. Besides, I don’t think she’s drunk, just buzzed.”
Brock gave her another look and then pulled me back some. “You sure you want to talk to her tonight? She was pretty pissed, and if she is slightly drunk she might not remember talking to you tomorrow.”
“I’m not drunk,” Merit called out. “And stop talking like I’m not here!”
We both turned to see her standing up.
“I felt sick, that’s all. I’m f-fine.” She hiccupped, and it was the cutest fucking thing I’d ever heard.
Brock walked up to her and went to kiss her on the cheek, then checked himself. She had just thrown up. “Maybe I’ll forgo the friendly kiss. If I haven’t said it yet, I’m glad you’re back, Merit.”
When she gifted him with a brilliant smile, I felt my hands clench into fists. Then I quickly opened them. Why in the hell was I jealous of Brock simply saying something nice?
“Thank you, Brock. Sorry about tonight.”
“Don’t even worry about it.”
Brock turned back to me and reached his hand out to shake mine. “Take care of her and don’t fight. At least not in public.”
I nodded and let out a humorless laugh. “No promises.”
He rolled his eyes and headed over to where his truck was parked next to mine.
When I focused back on Merit, she was staring at me. She quickly looked away and then swayed. I reached out to steady her, and she pulled back from me. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. Come on, let’s get some coffee into you.”
I reached for her hand and was surprised when she didn’t pull away again. Once we got to my truck, I opened the door and helped her in. She immediately put her head back against the seat and took in a few deep breaths.
I jogged around to the driver’s side, opened the door, and climbed in. The night air was cool and crisp, and I realized in that moment how much I had missed Hamilton. Summer here was one of my favorite times of the year. The full moon was coming up over the mountains and illuminating the snow that still covered some of the peaks. It was almost like a light on the mountains that reflected down into the valley.
“Damn, it’s beautiful here,” I said.
“Mmm, it is.”
I glanced to my right to see Merit staring out the windshield at where I had just been looking.
“I’d always forget how pretty it is here until I came home to visit. It was always so hard to leave,” she said softly.
Her words felt like lead on my chest. I was the reason she left. She’d said so herself inside the Blue Moose.
“Let’s go get you some food and coffee,” I said.
“Ugh, don’t even mention food.” She dropped her head back and closed her eyes again. “And stop driving so fast!”
I smiled. “Bugs, I haven’t even backed up yet.”
“Oh God…maybe I am drunk, then.”
Thirty minutes later, and after a quick stop for a toothbrush, we were sitting in a booth at Nap’s Grill, and Merit had a giant hamburger and fries in front of her. Not to mention the coffee she was slowly sipping.
“Feel any better, Bugs?”
She shrugged. “I’m buzzing and sorta wish I could throw up some more to get all this whiskey out of my system.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
She took a bite of her burger and then looked at me for a moment.
“What?” I asked.
“Why are you calling me Bugs again?”
I felt a frown form instantly on my face. “What?”
“You’ve called me that nickname a few times now.”
With a shrug, I replied, “It’s your nickname.”
She shook her head. “It was my nickname back in high school. That was a long time ago.”
“Do you not like me calling you that?”
Her eyes locked on mine, and I swore I saw the same heat as I did that night in the barn. Then she looked down at the burger she’d only taken a few bites of and pushed it away. “It took me by surprise, that’s all.”