Page 67 of Redeeming Rabbit

“Yeah, I’m gonna go with Option B, the one where you buzz off so I can go back to sleep.”

“It’s Monday. Your ass should be at work. And why aren’t you answering your phone?”

It was Monday, huh? I’d started in on my whiskey collection as soon as Elenore had made her demands and walked out the door and had lost all of Sunday to the booze. Impressive. Even for me.

I feigned a cough. “Can’t work today. I’m sick.”

He crossed his arms and huffed. “Sick in the fuckin’ head, more like. What’s really going on?” He studied me. “Are you on something?”

That rankled. He should know me better. “Fuck you, Wasp. I don’t use.”

“Well, something’s going on, and it’s high time you grow up and talk to Sage.”

And now came the holier-than-thou behavior. I would have rolled my eyes had I not been worried about losing my balance. “Just as soon as you suck my dick.”

“Bring that thing anywhere near me, and I’ll snap it in two.” His expression sobered as he looked around my stark living space. “What the fuck are you doin’, Rabbit? Is this really how you want to live? Who you want to be?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want. This is who I am. And it’s time you and everyone else accepted that.” Why did he even care? I was his number one pain-in-the-ass. He should want to be rid of me. They all should.

The memory of Elenore walking out my door threatened to double me over like a kick to the nuts.Shewas what I wanted, but her price… it was more than I could pay. Therapy. Revealing all the messed-up shit inside my head. That would come with consequences I couldn’t handle.

Elenore and my brothers would learn what a cowardly son-of-a-bitch I truly was.

But by missing work, I’d advanced to an entirely new level of fuck-uppery. If Wasp reported my no-call, no-show, Link would be the next obnoxious asshole banging on my door. Ignoring the prez wasn’t an option. As it stood now, I had two choices: I could drink until they kicked my ass out or sober up and pretend to function. But sobering up would only revive the dream I’d been trying to drown. Because a life with Elenore was only a dream. But living without her was a goddamn nightmare.

Still, it wasn’t fair to saddle her with me. She’d given me one job—make it through one fucking dinner—and I hadn’t even been able to accomplish that. She deserved better.

Wasp cocked his head to the side, studying me like I was an engine emitting a noise he’d never heard before. “We will accept your choices, just as soon as you give Sage a chance. By the way, living like this,” he gestured to encompass my sparse, body-odor and alcohol-saturated room, “is not a choice, it’s a fucking cop-out. Helping vets is literally what Sage does. He can get you some relief, brother.”

“No thanks. I have all the relief I need.” I gestured at my dwindling whiskey collection.

Wasp’s brow drew into a determined line as he marched toward my booze like a man possessed, and I realized my mistake. Before I could wobble off the bed to stop him, he scooped up four of my five remaining bottles. Using an elbow to gesture at the bourbon he’d left behind, he said, “You get one more bottle to get your shit together. You hear me?”

Having never met an ultimatum I wouldn’t challenge, I asked, “Or what?”

I expected him to get angry and promise to kick my ass to the curb, but his expression softened. “Won’t matter because it won’t come to that. I believe in you, brother. You’re stronger than you think, and you’ll pull your shit together.”

Then the patronizing asshole walked out of my room with my motherfucking booze.

Annoyed, I pulled on a pair of jeans, thinking. I should chase his ass down and demand he return my property, but that required a level of functionality I didn’t possess at the present time. Instead, I snatched up the single bottle he’d left me. Naturally, it was a $300 special reserve bourbon, the most expensive bottle I owned. I’d intended to save it for a special occasion, but using it to ignite the dumpster fire that was my life would have to do.

Wasp was right about the stink of my room. Fresh air was in order. I took my bottle and ambled down the hall to the emergency exit. Despite the notice that said otherwise, the door wasn’t alarmed. I knew that because I often retreated through it when I needed time alone to think. The door led to a rusted metal fire escape. I climbed up to the metal cage that served as a roof-level platform and sat, squeezing my legs through the foot-wide gap between the lower railing and floor to dangle my feet over the edge.

Opening my bottle, I took a swig. My empty stomach rebelled, clamoring for something more substantial than booze, but I ignored it. It was just one more entity trying to tell me how to live my life. Besides, I was feeding it the good shit now, and this $300 bourbon was smooth as fuck. I laughed, amused at the irony of dipping into the good stuff, not to enjoy the flavor but to avoid my impossible situation. Nothing like celebrating my nosedive into the gutter.

I’d made it about a quarter of the way through the bottle—my hangover fading into a much more pleasant buzz—when the back door of the fire station slammed open. Feet pounded on the paved walkway, and Morse rounded the corner of the building. Shielding his eyes with a hand, the judgmental bastard stared up at me and shook his head. I flipped him off.

“Drinking and heights? That’s the level of stupidity we’re subscribing to now?”

I toasted him with the bottle and took another swig. “Don’t knock it ’till you try it.”

“How about you stop being a dumbass and climb your ass down from there before you fall?”

“How about you suck my dick?”

I needed to come up with a wider variety of comebacks. But after Elenore’s little stunt, blowjobs were front and center on my mind. If Lacey were around, I could probably convince her to give me one. But oddly enough, the idea of anyone but Elenore’s mouth on my dick no longer appealed to me. Hell, if that wasn’t love, I didn’t know the meaning of the word.

I was fucking whipped.

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