I’m half-finished with my second beer when a plate of loaded fries appears in front of me. I look up to see Wyatt standing there. He shrugs.
“If you’re going to drink, you gotta eat. Carbs soak up the booze. You taught me that.”
I look back at the plate loaded with fried potatoes, bacon, cheese and whatever else Wyatt threw on top and shrug. I appreciate that he’s not trying to talk me out of drinking. I pick up a fork and dig in. By the time I’m on my third beer, Ronan and Van are here. Wyatt must have called them. Van joins me in my quest to drink myself into a coma, tapping his bottle to mine in a toast. He can always be counted on for a good time. Ronan sits quietly and watches us, ever the responsible little brother. He’s not drinking, but he’s not commenting on my drinking and I appreciate that.
Wyatt tries to use reason. “Maybe it’s not what you think,” he says. “You said she hasn’t heard from the guy since right after Liam was born, right?”
“Piece of shit,” Ronan mutters. It’s rare for him to offer commentary on people he’s never met, but in this case, I’m inclined to agree. I only met Paul once shortly after he and Hannah moved to town. I don’t remember much about him, but I don’t think I’m missing anything.
Wyatt nods his agreement with Ronan. “You’re probably right,” he says. “But what if he’s changed his tune? What if he realizes he was wrong and wants a relationship with his son?”
I feel a rush of protectiveness surge through me at the thought. I don’t know when I started thinking of Liam as mine, but I do. The truth is, I’ve grown to love Liam just as much as I love his mother. I hate the idea of Hannah’s ex coming back into his life and trying to make up for lost time. I know it’s wrong of me. I should be happy for Liam. He deserves two parents who love him and want the best for him. He can’t help it that I’ve started to think of myself as one of them. That’s my issue to deal with.
“Maybe,” I say in response to Wyatt. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
I pick up my beer and drain it. Is that 5? Or 6? Doesn’t matter. One of my brothers will drive me home. I wave the empty bottle at Wyatt who rolls his eyes but goes to retrieve another.
The night becomes a blur. Eventually Claire shows up for her weekly performance. That must mean it’s 9 o’clock, right? She takes one look at me and Van and rolls her eyes before heading for the piano in the corner. I’ve stopped counting beers. At some point, Ronan forced a bottle of water into my hand and wouldn’t let up until I drank it. I tried to convince Wyatt to bring me a shot of whiskey, but he wisely refused.
I’m not sure what time it is when Ronan finally convinces me to leave Mack’s. It’s late, but not past closing. I shrug off his arm and manage to walk out of Mack’s unassisted. When we get out to the parking lot, I stop when I see that Ronan’s driving his police cruiser.
“Seriously?” I’m proud that my speech isn’t slurred.
He opens the back door and waves a hand at me. “Watch your head.”
I snort a laugh. “I’m not getting in the back.”
“This way if you puke, I can just hose it out.”
“You know I don’t puke.”
Ronan sighs and shuts the door before opening the front passenger door. “Fine. But if you puke in my car, you’re paying for the detail.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter before climbing in.
The ride home is a blur of streetlights and dark shop windows. Ronan remains quiet, but that’s normal for Ronan since his time in the Marines. He was never overly talkative before the military, but after Afghanistan and nearly losing his leg, he became downright antisocial for a while. He’s gotten better over the past couple years, but he still seems to hold himself apart from us somehow, even when he’s surrounded by people. I still worry about him, but he seems to be doing okay these days. Ronan pulls up at my house and turns off the engine. Instead of just waiting for me to go inside, he walks with me. He follows me into the house and waits for me to take off my shoes and sit down on the couch.
“You good?” he asks.
I nod, wondering when my little brother became the caretaker. That’s always been my job.
“Listen Finn,” he says giving me that direct gaze he’s so good at. “You might not remember this tomorrow, but I’m going to give you some advice.”
I sigh, but I don’t interrupt.
“I’ve seen the way she looks at you. The way you look at her. You’re crazy about each other. If you love her, you need to make sure she knows it. You don’t want to look back later and realize you have regrets. Trust me on that.”
I study my younger brother and consider his words. This is the closest he’s come to talking about his past with me. Drunk or not, I can see how uncomfortable he is with even that small confession. I dip my head once in a nod.
“Thanks, Ro. And thanks for the ride home.”
He flashes me a rare smile. “No problem. Drink some water and get some sleep. I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow?”
“I’ll be there.”
“You’ll be hungover as shit.” He laughs on his way out the door.
I shake my head. He’s probably right. I don’t want to think about tomorrow. Instead, I follow his advice and drink a big glass of water. Then I refill the glass and bring it with me
