Page 86 of Pucked Up and Married (Las Vegas Angels 4)

I could feel my blood begin to boil even more. “Yes,” I leaned forward, “I know what’s legal in my own country, thank you very much. And I also know when my father is in a downward spiral. You don’t.”

He looked at me and spoke in an even tone, “I’m just saying, the guy’s marriage is in the toilet. I don’t blame him for self-medicating.”

Oh.

My.

Gosh.

I was in serious danger of screaming.

“This has nothing to do with their breakup. In fact,” I slammed my arms down to my sides, “I’d put freaking money down on the fact they broke up,” my hands flew to the ceiling, “because of him using again.”

The way he looked at me with that condescending gaze—holy shitballs—I really might just scream.

“Give him a few days. I’m sure he’ll snap out of it. Besides, doesn’t he have knee issues? I thought I read that somewhere.”

Oh.

My.

Gosh.

I needed to get away from him before my brain exploded.

“Trey, he’s an addict. I don’t have the time or the energy to convince you of that right now. You don’t believe me?” I gave him an exaggerated shrug. “That’s great. I don’t really care. Think whatever the heck you want. I know the truth.”

After that, I went to go workout again.

Not because it was in my program—because if I didn’t, I might run out the door and not stop.

An hour and a half later, I came out to check on my dad. From the look of things, he’d had several more drinks, and spilled an entire bottle of pills on the carpet.

I scooped them up and flushed them down the toilet. Then I poured out half the rye, and added water to level it back up.

I’d done a thorough search yesterday, so whatever else he had hidden—I’d never find anyway.

But, at least I got rid of something.

I went downstairs, and Trey was already in bed—where he’d been for the majority of our trip.

I took a long shower and shoved a few things into my backpack for the morning.

I set out an outfit for the plane ride and went back up to talk to my dad.

To no avail.

We fought.

Again.

His words had gotten even more brutal—so, I gave up.

Now in tears, I wandered back to my room. Trey hadn’t so much as moved in his sleep. Even though I was bone tired, I knew there was no way I’d drift off.

Not with all this adrenaline pumping through my body.

So, I turned on my TV, and put on a sappy love story. Then, I opened the top drawer of my dresser and pulled out my emergency treats.

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