Page 149 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

Gin.

Fucking pine trees. Great.

Tongue in cheek, I bring it to my lips and take a swallow.

“What did Madelyn say?” Jake prods.

“Marty was blackmailing her.” My fist clenches around the glass bottle, threatening to break it. “And she didn’t want to do any of it.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Doesn’t matter. Her being blackmailed into sleeping with the manipulative asshole I could forgive.” My nostrils flare, and I shake my head back and forth in disgust. “But she lied to me. About Penny. About me being a dad.” I lift the bottle to my lips again. “It’s unforgivable.”

“Maybe she wanted to tell you sooner,” Jake murmurs as he watches me swallow down more liquor. I’m gonna be puking tomorrow, but I don’t give a shit anymore––about anything.

Huh. I guess I really am like my dad.

I set the bottle back on the counter and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Doesn’t matter.” My vision blurs. “‘Cause she didn’t. And it’s on her. She can’t blame that bullshit on Marty. She should’ve told me. Before she moved in and I gave Penny my last name. Before everything.”

“Maybe––”

“I thought I was a dad, but it’s bullshit too,” I repeat, talking to myself more than Jake at this point while shoving aside the images of Penny popping up in my mind. I scrub my hand over my face. “It’s all bullshit.”

“You don’t know––”

“I know it well enough.”

“Are you going to talk to her? Maybe get a paternity test or something?”

“I don’t want one.”

“But––”

“If I get one, and she’s not mine…” A golf ball-sized lump lodges in my throat, but I swallow it back with another swig of gin.

Damn gin.

I hate gin.

I’m gonna be so shitfaced in a few minutes.

Like father, like son.

Reaching for the bottle, Jake takes it from me. “You should slow down.”

“Says the asshole who’s been living here.” I motion to the dimly lit bar. We used to come here all the time until Riv started dating my sister, Gibson and Dove left to go on tour with their band, and Maddie walked back into my life, telling me I was a dad.

“We gonna talk about your shit?” I ask. “‘Cause only one of us is allowed to have our head up our ass at a time, and I think it’s my turn now.”

Jake’s mouth quirks up on one side, then he takes another small sip of alcohol. “Not sure that’s how it works.”

“It’s gonna have to be,” I return. “I can’t do this without you.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry I was an ass about my sister,” I continue. “I’m sorry I didn’t see how much you cared about her, and I was standing in the way of your happiness,” I ramble, my words slurring. “But you’re gonna find someone. And she’s gonna knock you on your ass.”

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