Page 54 of Clubs

Brooke was a resource to Ria. Ria was family, friendship, and sisterhood, to Brooke. And Ria capitalized on that, and it pissed me off every time. For the most part, I kept my nose out of their relationship, but not this time.

Taking Brooke’s face in my hands again, wiping the various liquids from her face, I said, “She was wrong.” A breath that almost resembled a whimper left Brooke’s lips. “I don’t know what she said, but if she used me to hurt you, she was wrong. I’m not going anywhere.”

A sniffle, and a nod. I still wasn’t sure she believed it, but she heard it.

“I know you just want to help her. I know she means the world to you. But she’s an adult now, Brooke. She’s not your responsibility anymore. If she chooses to live this way, you can’t stop her.”

“But what if she dies?” she whispered through trembling lips. “What if this life kills her? How am I supposed to live with that?”

“The same way me and my mom do.” Thumbing her cheek, I frowned. “You just keep going. You did what you could, sweetheart. But it’s your choice if you let her keep hurting you.”

Her lips quivered, and she sniffled again. But she nodded. “I know.”

Blowing out a slow, careful breath, I looked her over. Between the puke in her hands and hair, all over her shirt, there was no cleaning this up with some paper towels. “How about we get you a shower and into bed?”

Grasping hold of the entry table, she started to stand. The table trembled, and everything on top of it did the same.

I gripped it in place before it could fall. “How about you let me help you?”

I half expected her to tell me to fuck off. To say that she was a grown woman, she didn’t need help in the shower. But she set the puke bin on the floor and reached out for my hand.

CHAPTER TWENTY

DECLAN

When Mom’s lupus got bad, we got her a shower chair. It was a slow progression, but the fatigue came on early. She couldn’t stand for long periods of time.

I never got rid of that shower chair after she had moved to an assisted living facility. So, when Brooke couldn’t stand on her own, that was how I helped her bathe. She sat, and I wiped her off, and washed her hair, and made her drink Gatorade while I did.

She kept apologizing. She didn’t need to.

It wasn’t that I wanted a girlfriend who needed my help with everything. I didn’t need to be her parent. But for once, Brooke was struggling, and I got to help her. I got to feel like she needed me. I doubted I would get that opportunity often, but tonight, I had it. And I enjoyed it. In my own twisted, warped perception of love, I enjoyed being needed.

By eleven, I had her tucked into bed. I didn’t get much sleep. I kept waking up to hold her hair back while she puked. But, by three, her phone was ringing. I ignored it. She was too out of it to hear it. But then it rang again, and again, and again. As soon as it would go to voicemail, it would ring once more.

Eventually, I stood, wobbled across the house in my disoriented haze, and dug for it in her purse. Couldn’t say I was surprised at the name that flashed across the screen. Ria.

I was in no state to talk to her. Not really. Whatever she had said, whatever had happened, had hurt Brooke. And Ria hurt her all the time, even if tonight was the first time she had opened up about it. I resented Ria for that.

But I loved the little shit. She wasn’t my sister, but she was close enough to one now. So, I answered. “Brooke’s passed out. What’s going on, Ria?”

“C-can you wake her up?” Her voice quivered, and a sniffle followed. “I-I need my sister.”

“No, she’s not waking up anytime soon. Whatever happened between the two of you did a number on her. What’s going on, Ria?”

“Just wake her up—”

“No.” My tone was firm. I couldn’t make Brooke stop enabling her, but right now, she wasn’t capable of doing whatever it was Ria needed. For once, Brooke was the one who needed a safe place, and she was in it. She didn’t need to deal with Ria’s shit right now. But I could. “Do you need help? Or a ride or some shit?”

A breathy sound, almost impossible to identify. A snort? A laugh? A sob? I didn’t know. “I need Brooke.”

“Well, you broke Brooke’s heart tonight. She drank half my bar, and she’s passed out in my bed.” I didn’t mean to sound like a dick, but those were the facts. “What’s going on? Can I help?”

A moment of silence, and another one of those odd sounds. Then a cry, I was certain of this time. “I-I’ll figure it—”

“No, you won’t figure it out. I’ll come help you.” Wasn’t sure if I sounded more like a big brother or a controlling father there, but the fact remained. She sounded bad, and I wasn’t going to leave her to walk home in the dark from gods knew where. “Where are you? What happened?”

“I—it—” Some more sniffling, and the rustling of wind. “I can just walk. I’ll—”

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