Groaning, I roll over and cover my face with my hand. “Jesus.”
“Yup. Definitely wasn’t your finest moment.”
“Is Fletcher…”
“Pissed?” she finishes for me. “Not as much as concerned.”
“Fuck. I just couldn’t stand watching everyone be happy,” I say, surprising even myself with my honesty.
Luckily, Dilynne just nods. “Yup. Been there.”
I peer up at her. “Really? When?”
She darts her gaze from me and clears her throat. “Doesn’t matter. Look, you should probably hop your sorry ass in the shower. I can smell the alcohol coming out of your pores, and there’s a pizza warming in the oven. Greasy food always helps with the hangover.”
“Why don’t you leave me the fuck alone, Dilynne?” My words are harsh, but the last thing I want to deal with right now is this woman in my house when I feel like shit. “I don’t need your help today, and I sure as fuck didn’t need it the day you took me to the junkyard, all right?”
“So you’ve told me.” Moving away from me, she grabs her keys from the coffee table and heads toward the front door. “Take something now and drink lots of water, and maybe lay off the booze for a while, all right?”
I don’t get a chance to respond because in the next breath, she’s gone. And as I sit up on the couch and finally feel gravity again, so does my stomach, making me race to the bathroom to deal with the consequences of my actions in more ways than one.
Chapter 4
Dilynne
Time for Some Tough Love
Three Months After the Wedding
Standing on the front porch of Elliot’s house, I groan when I hear angry music blaring from inside. Through the window, I see him pacing his living room with a bottle in his hand. Jack Daniels, if I had to guess.
It’s been three months since Tori walked out on their wedding, and Elliot doesn’t seem to be getting any better. His drinking has only gotten worse, and his surly attitude is pissing me off more than usual.
It’s time for some tough love. Heavy on the tough—because Elliot and love don’t belong in the same sentence.
I pound on the door, hoping it will cut through the screaming rock music, but no such luck. After two more attempts, I twist the doorknob and find it unlocked, so I step inside.
Elliot is standing with his back to me, tipping the bottle up to his mouth.
“If you don’t turn that shit down, someone is going to call the sheriff and you’ll have to deal with Rhonan instead of me!” I shout over the music.
Elliot twists around slowly, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with red, glaring at me when his gaze meets mine. “What the fuck do you want?”
I hold up the bags of food from Blossom Brews. “Nice to see you too.”
He takes another swig of booze and then moves to the stereo, turning the volume down low enough that my ears don’t ring anymore. “I thought I told you to stop with the food deliveries.”
Shrugging, I move toward his kitchen island to deposit the bags onto the marble counter tops. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He takes a few steps toward me, his glare still icy. “I’m serious, Dilynne. You’re starting to act like a stalker.”
“Ha. You fucking wish.”
“No, I really fucking don’t. What I wish is for you to just leave me the fuck alone.”
I shake my head. “Just eat, Elliot. You need something to soak up all that alcohol.”
He just scoffs.