Page 51 of Whiskey's Redemption

“You didn’t mean my gay / straight boss Chris? ’Cause no, I called you first. You’re more important than that male hooker.”

“Wrong male slut, Carli. I meant the other one. Have you called him? Or was I the lucky contestant to get first chance at Jeopardy?”

“Funny. Your humor hasn’t increased any. And your tact has definitely decreased. I see the directness of your racer is wearing on your ability to bite your tongue.” With more wrestling on the line, and pouting shouts, I have the feeling Circe finally lost.

“Oh, she bites her tongue plenty. She bites other things—”

I yell into the phone, cutting him off. “Oh! That’s enough, Casper Crown! Don’t give me a visual of you two.” Crossing my arm over my head to close out the light, I’m trying to remove the idea of my friend biting any part of Wyatt, ever-loving sexy Casper Crown. Since meeting Circe, hisSiren, Wyatt’s become lighter, and joking is a part of that. His brother, on the other hand, is the dark, serious brute.

It’s bad enough mine has been put on the back burner. I can’t be thinking about her sex life. And Jamieson has the starring role in my singlehanded ministrations.

“Did you call Jamieson, Carli?” Wyatt laughs into the receiver. “Have you been video fucking at least?”

“No. Sorry, Cas. I don’t mean to wreck your vision of a double wedding, but Jamieson and I had a fling, nothing more.” Liar. I haven’t quit thinking about him.

In my defense, I haven’t had anyone else to envision. His deep, throaty voice, body built for sin, and my vivid imagination of what else we could have gotten up to if Kato hadn’t shown up, keeps me busy.

“Circe misses you. You should come home. You’d see the progress she’s made. I’m hoping we’re out of here in a week or so.” You can hear the happiness in his voice, but there’s still the other shoe to drop. With Wyatt and his bipolar condition, there’s always the other shoe. Circe helps to regulate him, his moods, and reminding him that the drugs are necessary, but there’s always a chance for a fall.

“Wyatt, that’s great,” I tell him.

“Yeah. I’m itchin’ to get out of here. I need to touch metal. I’m going stir crazy now that I can walk again.”

Reaching over, grabbing my drink, I take a huge gulp of the cool liquid. The only thing I’ve kept down are crackers and soda water to quench the thirst.

Against my better judgement, without overthinking it, I ask the question I probably shouldn’t. “So, um…how is he?”

Silence.

“Hello? Earth to Casper.”

“Why don’t you call him and find out?” If I was on FaceTime, I don’t think his smile would fit in the screen.

“Why don’t you tell me before I send ninjas to invade your room while you sleep? You’ll wake with pink hair, bright blue fingernails, and a tutu, Crown. There will be pictures. I’m still vindictive from afar, remember that.”

As he laughs, my stomach grumbles. Lifting off the couch quickly, I know the outcome if I don’t. I’ll spew across my living room.

Holding the phone at a distance, I push the door to the bathroom wide. “Wyatt, can you hang on a second?”

Setting the phone on mute, I throw up in the porcelain bowl, emptying out nothing of substance. Once I’m done, I release the mute button and apologize. “Sorry. This is awful. I didn’t want to do it in your ear. I hope I hit the button fast enough so you didn’t get a firsthand experience.”

“How about I put Circe back on. It sounds like you’re kind of busy.” As I wait for him to pass me back to Circe, I rise from the floor and wash up.

“Carli? You okay? How long have you been sick? Maybe you should get checked out by a doctor. They have clinics there, right?”

Waving off her concern, I traipse back to the couch, feeling lighter, but worse. “I don’t need to go to the doctor for something as simple as this. You don’t go to the doctor about the flu. You go when you need a checkup, stupid gyno appointments, and when you need your prescriptions refilled. It’s like going for a split nail, for Pete’s sake.”

“Fine, but do me a favor. If it lasts more than a few days, go get checked.”

It’s already been a few days. Actually, it’s been a few weeks, off and on, but I figured it was the food arguing every time I tried to take something else other than crackers in. “Yes, Mom. I promise.”

“Well, Wyatt and I are supposed to have physioappointments soon, so I better go. Don’t be a stranger, Carli. Don’t leave me wondering if you’re okay, got it?”

“Oh, pulling out the big guns, huh? The ‘I worry about you’ clause.” Rolling my eyes at her is lost on a phone call, so I just answer. “I promise not to leave you worrying.”

“Good.” I don’t need to look to know that Circe is crying. “Love you, Car. And I miss you so much. Don’t be gone so long again, okay?”

With tears threatening my eyes, I answer her back. “I promise, love. No more kidnappings. I’ll do my best to call you every week.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Hanging up the line, I push the tears away.

I won’t let my missing her get to me.

I won’t let it…

Dammit. Now I’m crying.

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