Page 13 of The Third Girl

CHAPTER 6

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MATT

A light knock sounds at the front door around eight o’clock as I’m about to head upstairs to hit the sack so I don’t throw my schedule off too much. I doubt I’ll fall asleep, but it’s worth a shot to end this shitty day.

I can’t imagine who is here because no one ever comes over anymore, as my house hasn’t been thefunhouse for a year now… and really before that, even, because Sailor wasn’t the easiest baby. I sigh, thinking back to the hour-long struggle we had at bedtime. But at least whoever is at the door knows enough not to ring the bell and wake her. It’s got to be someone who knows us.

Shoving myself off the couch, I head into the foyer just as another quiet knock hits the door. I hope the person on the other side is prepared to see me at my worst. I’m miserable as fuck and don’t particularly want any company. I’m not putting on an act for anyone, either. I grit my teeth and open the door.

Logan and Travis stand on the front steps, each of them holding up a bottle of whiskey and wearing tight smiles.Yeah.Their concerned looks as I stare at them, wordless, tell me they recognize grief has hit me upside the head all over again. Are there words for this? Some way of accurately describing how I’m feeling?No. Fuck no.It sure as hell hurts, though, and I hate feeling this way.

And then there are added layers of guilt because how the fuck can I be a good father to Sailor when I’m losing it?

I swallow hard, shaking my head as I eye the booze. “What’s this?” I mumble.

My brother lifts the bottle in his hand. “We thought you could use a distraction.”

Logan’s brow furrows. “I won’t ask if you’re all right. I can tell you aren’t.”

I lean against the side of the doorway, breathing steadily as I stare at the two of them. They clearly aren’t leaving. “Don’t you two have to work?”

Logan shrugs. “I can stay a few hours. Have a drink with you.”

Travis clenches his jaw, his watchful gaze studying my face. I don’t have a clue what he sees, but I’m not hiding anything from him. It is what it is. He rubs his hand over his jaw and motions to the bag slung over his shoulder. “I don’t work until the morning. I can stay all damn night if I need to.”

Pushing off the side of the door, I back into the house and gesture toward the kitchen. “We can hang in here for a bit.”

My brother nods. “Good. Whatever you want to do, man.” We walk into the kitchen where Trav sets down one bottle of whiskey at the same time Logan plunks the second next to it.

I grit my teeth, pointing to the alcohol. “You might be asking for it. I’m kinda a lightweight now. I hardly ever drink more than a beer because I’m always on dad duty.” My gut twists. There isn’t a single thing I’ve thought about all day that hasn’t led me right back to Terri. Trying to shake myself free of all the dark thoughts, I reach up into the cabinet next to the sink and grab three whiskey tumblers.

“Mind if I pour?” Travis eyes me carefully. Of course he’s not watching me because he cares whether I’ll let him pour or not. Nope. He’s trying to ascertain how bad off I am. These guys spent a lot of time with me last year. They know where my rock bottom is. They saw my mental collapse firsthand. Stood by me while I recovered enough to go back to work. The psychologist they made me see had said I was fit for duty, but am I right now? I wonder if I should consider going back to see her again.

“Go for it.” I watch in silence as he pours the amber liquid into all three glasses, passing one to me, then another to Logan.

Logan and Travis lift their glasses, and I begrudgingly lift mine as well.

Taking a deep breath, Logan starts us off. “To Terri. I know she’s watching over you and Sailor every day.”

Travis nods. “Yep. To the best sister-in-law I ever could have asked for. I’m sorry Kennedy never got to know her.”

My heart burns, and I swallow hard past the ever-present lump in my throat. “To my beautiful wife. I miss you, Terri girl. So fucking much.”

We take generous sips of our drinks. The whiskey slides down smoothly, creating a warmth in my stomach.

“So. What do you want to talk about?” Travis lifts one eyebrow. “We’re game for anything. Or nothing at all. Whatever you need.”

I take a few moments to consider. “I’m so fucking tired of thinking about how she should be here and what I’ve lost.” Clearing my throat, I demand, “Tell me your favorite memory of her.”

Logan takes another sip of his whiskey before setting it down with a small smile. “Remember that night at Sidewinders when the two of you took turns singing goofy karaoke to each other all night long? No one else wanted to do it, but you guys were having so damn much fun with each other, seeing which songs you’d pick and laughing. That kind of love and laughter is enviable. Something we all strive for.”

I bob my head for a few moments, then lift my glass to my lips, drinking some of it down. “Thank you. I forgot about that night.”

“Probably because the singing was so bad you blocked it from your memory. I suppose it’s a good thing I was permanently scarred and could recall the night for you.” Logan huffs out a laugh, then sips at his whiskey.

I turn to my brother, my brow raised, just waiting. I wonder what awkward memory he’s going to dredge up as his favorite. Because there are quite a few I can think of off the top of my head. Like the morning Terri went into labor and I went all crazy on her and she had to call Travis to come calm me the fuck down so we could get to the maternity ward. Travis had been on duty that day and had given us a police escort all the way to the hospital.

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