Page 97 of Bad & Bossy

“I remember every time she stumbled,” I admitted, pulling Drew back from my father’s lap and watching as he desperately tried to reach for the giraffe on the coffee table. I handed it to him. “Every time she forgot something, every time she made our lives a living hell. I don’t want Drew to have to go through that.”

His lips pursed. “I understand that too,” he sighed. “I thought about leaving your mother many times, for the sake of you and Vee. The possibility that this, what we have now, would happen. It haunted me. Sometimes I wish I’d done it. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t half the person you are, Dana. I wasn’t strong enough for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I love your mother with every fiber of my being. I have since the moment I met her. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to function without her, at least not enough to bring up two hell-raising daughters on my own,” he laughed. “Maybe I was selfish for not trying. But your mother… she’s my person, sweetie. I didn’t think I could handle life alone, and I chose to fight it with her so I wouldn’t have to.”

————

By the time Dad left, the sun had long since set, the street lights kicking on and bouncing off the shimmering snow. I shut the door behind him, the only sound left in the house that of Drew’s little snores from his bassinet on the other side of the living room. His breaths were back to normal, finally.

I was alone, for better or for worse.

I’d made my decision.

I leaned against the broken wood of my door. Everything I’d shoved down since I left work came bubbling up, every emotion, every tear, every drop of anger. I tried to stuff it down again, tried to keep myself from waking Drew, but the broken sobs took hold.

I slid down the door, burying my face in my knees, containing the sounds as best I could to keep him from waking. This was for the best. It had to be. But I felt like I was making the biggest, worst decision of my entire life.

Chapter 35

Cole

Iblinked, and three months had passed.

I sat on the sofa, the sound of music coming from somewhere upstairs. Empty bottles and cans littered the floor, the couch, littered my fucking life.

I tipped the bottle back, letting every fucking drop fall down my throat. It did nothing to cure the ache, though. That wasn’t from the booze anymore. No amount of alcohol killed it, no matter how much I drank. It got worse when I thought of her, when I thought of him, the ways in which he must be changing, how much bigger he must be by now.

It throbbed for the first time when I found out she’d resigned from her position. It throbbed again when I called Lottie ten minutes later, demanding she tell me where Dana had gotten a job and almost crying when she refused. It throbbed when I found myself on the bathroom floor almost every night, sick from too much booze and unable to stop thinking of her.

The binges had become worse. I couldn’t remember the last time I was fully sober or the last full day of work I completed. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d left my house. Everything was blurring, and she wouldn’t answer my calls, she’d blocked me everywhere, and I couldn’t even find a photo of my son. Lottie wouldn’t tell me a single thing, wouldn’t show me any recent pictures of him, instead sending me links to rehab facilities.

Everything was blurring, and I was losing my mind.

Blind hope was what led me to the door when my sensor dinged. I didn’t check the camera. I knew it wasn’t her, but I could pretend it was.

She’d taken every good part of me when she kicked me out of her life.

I pulled the door open, fully expecting nothing more than another package Bobby had delivered or maybe another crate from the liquor store, but instead, it was Grayson’s face and black hair that filled my narrowing field of vision.

Before saying a word, he took a step back, covering his nose with the collar of his shirt. “Jesus, Cole.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Gray, either. “What are… what are you doing here?”

“You’re drunk,” he said, and all I could do was nod. “It’s one in the fucking afternoon.”

“My sleep schedules fucked.” I mumbled.

“You’re slurring.”

“If you…” I took a moment, centering myself to try to keep my words together. “If you just came here to point out my failures, you can leave.”

He shook his head, the snow behind him melting as the sun sprung out from behind the clouds. “I’m not here for that. I’m sorry. I just wanted to see you if you wanted to, you know, go do something. Get out of the house.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the state of the grand foyer. The sight of clothes strewn in random places, plastic bags and empty cardboard boxes from delivery after delivery, made me cringe. “Yeah. I would.”

“Fishing, maybe?”

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