Page 107 of The Love Destroyers

“Don’t drink.”

Sighing, I say, “Why do all the women I know tell me not to do anything fun?”

“This isn’t a joke, Shay,” Declan says, getting salty again.

“It’s easier if it is.”

“You’re not a joke,” he presses.

That makes me laugh. “I feel like one, but I’m still waiting for the punchline.” I lean back. “Look. I feel like shit. I need to be alone.”

“Youhatebeing alone,” Rosie says, watching me with suspicion.

“I hate being alone, but right now I need it.”

She’s still watching me. “You told Declan you don’t believe it’s possible to be in love.”

I shoot him an accusatory look. “Jesus, when did you become a chatty Cathy? You’ve always been the most withdrawn of all of us.”

He shakes his head and takes a sip of his whiskey. “Love did it to me.”

“And he was worried about you,” Rosie says pointedly. “For good reason. You’re wearing that stupid shirt from Lia. You only do that when you’re depressed.”

I run my hands through my hair and squeeze it at the roots before letting go. “Look, I’m happy for you, Rosie. You seem happy. Declan seems happy, too, when he’s not running his mouth. That’s great. But it doesn’t mean I have to value the same things you two do, okay?”

“But you do,” Rosie says. “You care about people.”

“I care about you two.”

“You care about people,” she repeats. “You took Chuck shopping before his date and helped him pick out a shirt. And if you didn’t care about Emma, you wouldn’t have offered to be part of Operation Love Destroyers. I would have realized it sooner if you’d told me about the lighter and all that shit.”

“Which is exactly why I didn’t.”

“You know, I’ve told her you’re a real ladies’ man. If I’d known you were interested, I would have helped you. I would have been over the moon to help you.”

I groan, fighting the urge to cover my ears like a child. “Oh, come on. Emma’s not interested in dating me, for fuck’s sake, and Declan has already pointed out it’s a terrible idea. He’s right.”

She scowls and shoves his arm. “Why would you do that, you big lug?”

He shrugs. “Itisa terrible idea, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t work out. Look at you and Anthony. I thought that was a terrible idea, too, and you’re still happy about it.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Happy? I’m ecstatic, and so are you, and Seamus could be too if he’d get out of his own way.”

“Would you please leave,” I say with a groan. “Right now all I care about is lying down for twelve hours.”

“Don’t drink. Don’t drive. Don’t smoke,” she says.

I wave her off. “No sin or vice. No fun. Got it.”

She wraps her arms around me, only laying off when I point out that it hurts like hell. My brother nods to me.

Then they’re gone, and I’m left alone with my thoughts.

And what do you know? It fucking sucks.

I change my shirt, but I drink more, even though I shouldn’t. Hell, I probably do itbecauseI shouldn’t. And I sit there feeling sorry for myself and this situation I’m in, which is my own fault for playing with fire.

Which is when I let the rabbit out of his cage. Because I feel trapped, too—by the past, by the situation I’m in—and I don’t want that for either of us.

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