Page 43 of Whiskey and Wildfire

“What else was I s-s-supposed to do?” he slurred back. “Call you to come pick me up on your horse?”

“My mom has a car!”

Logan glanced over at the SUV sitting in the driveway. “Oh.”

“Oh?! That’s all you fucking have to say?”

“No. S’not.” He stumbled forward, opened his mouth like he was going to speak, and then vomited all over the ground. When he was done, he just glanced up at me with a stupid grin on his face. “Oops.”

“Hope you boys are ready to eat—” my mother’s voice called out from the porch. Then she stopped. “Logan, honey? You okay?”

He waved a hand and stumbled, nearly falling into the puddle of his own sick in the dust. Before he could answer, I grabbed his arm and tucked my shoulder into his waist, lifting him off the ground.

“Hey!” he barked from over my shoulder. “I can walk!”

As I carried him up the porch steps my mother stared at me, her brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” I growled. “But he’s piss drunk and I’m gonna put him in bed.”

“I don’t wanna go to bed,” Logan called behind me.

“And I don’t give a shit you fucking asshole,” I snapped, pushing my way into the house. I stomped down the hall to his bedroom, not being gentle in the least as I tossed him onto his bed. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I cried, pointing a threatening finger at him. “You went to the bank and then got drunk? Then you drove home like this?! You could’ve fucking killed someone or yourself!”

Logan’s grin faded as he stared up at me. I could see the anger in his eyes at me for throwing him on the bed, but there was something else there too. Something I couldn’t put my finger on.

“Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?!”

For a moment he just stared at me. Then his gaze dropped to the floor. He didn’t speak a word.

“Fine,” I snapped, heading for the door. “You can sleep it off. And when you’re done being a drunk piece of shit, you let me know.”

Before he had a chance to say anything, I slammed the door behind me, the frame rattling in the wall. My mother was already there, waiting for me.

“Hey,” she said in a soothing voice. “It’s okay. He’s alright. No harm done?—”

“Shut up!” I yelled, fury filling me to the brim. “Don’t defend him like you always did with dad! He’s being fucking stupid, and he almost get himself killed!” She stared at me, hurt filling her expression. “I didn’t come all the way out here just so I could put up with another drunk and relive every fucking bad memory I have! He knows how I feel about all this, and he went and did it anyway.”

“Did something happen?” she asked, her voice timid.

“I don’t know, and I don’t fucking care. There’s no excuse for doing shit like this. Not one!”

I didn’t give her a chance to say anything else as I stormed off. Before I knew it, I was out the front door, through the gate, and stomping across the prairie toward the woods in the distance. I needed to get away from the house, Logan, and my mom. Anywhere there was a drunk person was the last place I wanted to be.

The sun was setting as I reached the edge of the woods, casting long shadows across the prairie. I slowed my pace, my anger giving way to a dull ache in my chest. The gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze helped calm my racing thoughts.

I found a fallen log and sat down, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Logan had never acted like this before.He knew how I felt about drinking, about my past. We’d talked about it openly. So why would he do this now?

As the sky darkened, I heard a twig snap behind me. I whirled around, heart pounding, only to see my mother approaching through the trees. Her long dark hair flowed in the breeze as she walked, and her boots kicked up small clouds of dust.

“Even this far from home, I always know where I’ll find you,” she said, stepping up beside me.

“This is my home,” I said, turning away from her. “Not that other place.”

She let out a long sigh. “Can I sit with you?”

“Only if you promise not to defend him,” I said.

“I promise.”

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