Page 93 of Always

A few minutes later, Skye knocks on Tessa’s door. Tessa opens it, her face streaked with tears, and her eyes…strange, like one is looking the other way or something, but not quite.

Damn. I’ve seen that look.

She’s on something.

“Hey,” Tessa says weakly. “Hi, Braden.”

“Hello, Tessa.” I walk straight into her apartment, taking command. “What can we do for you?”

“Braden…” Skye begins.

Does she expect me to walk in here and not take charge? That’s not how I’m wired. Tessa needs help, and I’m wired to find solutions.

“Have you eaten?” I ask Tessa.

“I had dinner with Garrett.”

I look around. A nearly empty bottle of vodka sits on the coffee table. I pick it up. “How much of this have you had?”

“Braden…” Skye says again.

“A few shots,” Tessa replies.

A few shots? It could be the truth, if the bottle was two thirds of the way gone before this evening.

Skye grabs my arm and steers me out the door. “She doesn’t need to be interrogated,” she whispers. “Please, just go.”

Leaving goes against all my instinct, but Tessa is Skye’s friend, not mine. I don’t want to come between their friendship any more than I already have.

I cup her cheek. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.” She closes the door.

Chapter Thirty-Five

I grew up with an alcoholic. Although my father quit drinking after the fire, he had one relapse after Mom’s death.

I was still just a kid, but I was the older son, so I took the brunt of Dad’s outburst.

The entire world shrank to our shabby living room, where broken bottles littered the worn rug and stale cigarette smoke hung in the air like a constant reminder of our dismal reality.

Yeah, Dad smoked when he drank.

Bobby Black wasn’t much, but he was all Ben and I had, so it fell to me to take care of this mess and make sure he never drank again.

It was a grim undertaking, but one I accepted without hesitation. The lingering smell of old whiskey mixed with the cold winter air that slipped through the cracks under our door. Dad’s resentful slurs echoed in my mind, a soundtrack to my childhood I wish I could forget. But it wasn’t all bad, Ben and I had each other.

And Dad eventually came around.

But it taught me many lessons, the first of which was how to recognize someone whose faculties are impaired.

Tessa is on something. Maybe it’s just a lot of vodka. It could be. I’m not sure. What I do know is that Skye will need me, so I don’t go far away. I find a restaurant and bar about a block away, hand my car over to the valet, and walk inside.

The bar has a cozy, old-world charm draped in a dim, moodylight, heavy on the burgundy leather. I find a stool and order a Wild Turkey.

Frank Sinatra croons through hidden speakers.

“Here you go.” The barkeep slides my drink toward me.

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