Page 191 of There's No Us Without You
He sniffs, nodding his head. “She’s my ex.”
I blow out a breath. “Jesus, I don’t even know what to say.”
“You and me both.”
“I know he’s going through something at the moment, but what’s her deal?” I lift a shoulder. “It’s a pretty messed-up thing for her to do.”
Will only stares at me, his jaw clenching as though he’s trying to see inside my mind. I’m not sure what he’s looking for. Then he frowns and scrubs his hands over his face. “Can you look after Emerson for a couple of hours?”
I nod. “Sure, but where are you going?”
“There’s just something I need to do,” he says, before kissing my forehead and climbing to his feet. With one more glance at Emerson, he stalks out of the room.
I’m left to stare at the empty doorway.
This isn’t good.
Please don’t tell me I need to worry about Will too.
FIFTY-FIVE
Will
I’ve been sittingin my car for the last hour, drinking whiskey out of a bottle and staring at the front of my brother’s house. The wind howls outside, whipping the dead leaves up off the ground and around my car.
It’s like something out of a horror movie.
Kind of like my life.
This is Tyler’s fucking fault. He should have told me about Emerson. Eden too, but it’s different with Tyler. He’s my flesh and blood. And he owes me.
He’s just a reminder of how much I fucked up as a brother. Maybe it’s my fault. I’ve been so caught up in my own shit, I ignored all the warning signs.
I take in another mouthful of whiskey, the burn now an agonising reminder that if I keep going the way I am, I’ll end up exactly like my father.
Living my life one bottle at a time.
I swipe at the single tear rolling down my cheek and drain the rest of the amber liquid before dropping the empty bottle onto the passenger-side floor.
What I should do is throw the thing through the front window of the house, make it known I’m here.
I’m not even sure Tyler’s home. At first, I was planning on storming through the front door and confronting him. But when I got here, I couldn’t make myself get out of the car.
Pretty sure I’m wasted enough now to confront him. Don’t ask me how the whiskey got here—it just showed up on my back seat.
But now it’s gone.
That sucks.
On a deep breath, I swing the door open—the hinges squeaking as metal rubs against metal—and pull myself from the car, using the handle on the inside of the door.
The warm breeze whips at my face, and my vision blurs when I stand up straight, my head spinning. When I take a step forward, I almost trip over my own feet.
“Fuck’s sake,” I say to no-one, considering I’m the only idiot out here.
Standing is a lot harder with half a bottle of whiskey pumping through my veins. I need to grab hold of the car door and steady myself for a moment before slamming it shut.
My feet scuff along the dirt path as I make my way up to the front of Tyler’s house. The least he could do is turn on a fucking light so I can see where the hell I’m going.
