drunk, or was he just trying to avoid actually having a real conversation with me?
Either way, something had to change. My body felt all wrong. Not having a routine was not okay for me. Some hours I’d feel tired and despondent, while other hours I’d feel jacked up with energy but without any way to expend it.
Yesterday, I’d played solitaire for hours on end—a paltry distraction because every minute of free time, all I could do was obsess about the girls back home.
Tanya could easily get overwhelmed when a lot of responsibility got put on her shoulders. I wasn’t sure how much Reba would be able to help her out, and LeAnn was still just a baby. Okay, so fourteen wasn’t that young. When I was that old, I was already a mini mom—or at least my mom’s right-hand girl. But all of us had tried hard to protect LeAnn’s childhood, so she was more a kid than any of us had ever been at her age.
When Dad was home, he’d had strict ideas about men’s and women’s roles, too. He made the money, and, in return, we made a nice, comfortable home for him. It was the least we could do for the audacity of all coming out female, with no strapping boys to carry on the family name and legacy.
Ha. What a legacy. When the going got tough, apparently “real men” just checked the eff out.
I looked back at Sully in disgust. How many nights had I seen my father like this? A man who could have been so much more—but wasn’t. I think I hated my father more for it. Knowing he could have been there if he’d put forth even an iota of his energy and the character he’d apparently lost a long time ago, back when he was the man my mother first fell in love with.
I knew men. And I was an idiot for thinking I could relax and let my guard down even the littlest bit around Sullivan VanDoren.
I steeled myself, grabbed the top of his blanket, and yanked. The entire blanket came away in my arms, much to my delight.
There. Take that.
“What the fuck?” Sully yelled, holding up a hand against the bright yellow light of the day. “Give that the fuck back or you’ll be sorry.”
I scampered backwards and as I did, tripped a little and stumbled to the floor. Where I suddenly got a good look under the bed. My eyes widened when I saw a box in the back corner. A crate full of more booze.
At nighttime when I made my pallet on the floor, it was always pitch black under the bed, but with the room currently flooded with light, I could see everything. There was one box with a fancy bourbon label and beside it, a couple other fancy bottles of whiskey and vodka.
“Son of a—” I let go of Sully’s blanket, which he immediately snatched back from the floor. The bed squeaked above me, and I imagined him turning around and settling back in. His snores returned almost immediately.
Which absolutely infuriated me.
He thought he got to cruise through these months in an alcoholic haze while I was stuck being stone cold sober?
No damn way, buddy.
Once his snores became even more sonorous and deep, I squeezed my thin frame underneath the bed just enough to get a handle on the box of booze. Wedging one foot against a wall, I managed to pull it out even though it was damn heavy, and the bottles clanked against one another loudly.
I thought for sure Sully would wake up, but his snores went on.
I fought a maniacal giggle.
After I got the big crate out, I went back for the last few separate bottles. Then I got everything arranged and shoved open the window.
When it was all perfect, I hollered at the top of my lungs, “Sully! Wake up or I’m dumping it all!”
Sully jumped at my shrill tone and his half-lidded eyes opened, wincing against the light. He was about to turn over again and keep ignoring me, but I clanked two of the bottles together loudly.
It was obviously a sound he was very familiar with, because finally, I had his attention. He pushed down the blanket and sat up, looking adorably befuddled, and also unfortunately terribly sexy with the several days’ dark scruff he was sporting.
He is not sexy, he is the enemy, I tried to scold myself, but his angry growl had my thoughts quickly clearing.
“What the hell