Whiskey River, Drown my Soul

Chapter Thirty-Three

Ip was worrying about Paige. Worrying and praying. She had a lot of heavy burdens she was carrying around right now. He wished he could lighten her load but was pretty confident he had added to it instead. He wished there were a tangible way for him to help rather than simply praying. Not that prayers didn't help, because he had witnessed them cause the tide to turn more times than he could count, but because he wanted to physically do something to make a difference.

Jose had encouraged him to sign up for a barrel racing competition next week, and he had reluctantly done so. He knew Jose was trying to get his mind off Paige, and he was willing to give it a shot, but he doubted it would work. He'd been doing competitive barrel racing since he was thirteen and didn't really need to practice much.

He chose to give himself a little challenge and chose Dante for the competition. He was young and wild, trainable, but undisciplined. Ip was going to see what this sleek black stallion could do. He was squeezing every spare second into working with Dante now, and it was helping his mind a little. Training horses took more focus than anything else he did. Therefore, it hadn't stung nearly as much that Paige had barely texted him one sentence in the last two days.

She'll figure it out, he told himself. She needs time and you need to continue to be patient. You've waited this long...

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Rev and I finally got Steve to bed around midnight. By that point, he had cried more times than I could count, alternating with episodes of hopeless rage. By ten, he was so drunk that he couldn't stand on his own, and I had to get Rev to help him to the bathroom. Bre also texted me around that time to inquire if he was with me and if he was okay.

Yep and no, was my abrupt reply. I didn't want him to catch me communicating with her.

If Rev was annoyed, he didn't show it. After we got Steve tucked in on the basement couch, we sat at the basement island on barstools until he was snoring, to make sure he was going to stay put.

I left on the basement bathroom light so he could find it if he needed to get up, and obediently followed Rev upstairs. I did not feel like sleeping in the spare bedroom with him but I believed Rev would follow through on his threat, and with the drama of Steve here...well, I simply didn't need any more conflict right now. I was being complacent and caving. I hated myself when I did that but I knew it was the path of least resistance at the moment, which was the current best path to take.

I knew Ip wouldn't agree. He would remind me I always had a choice and he wouldn't like me giving in simply because Rev threatened me.

Ironically, Rev used to give me the same damn speech about Brad.

Now he was Brad...to some extent anyway.

Sleeping in the spare room wasn't terrible, all things considered. The new bed was incredibly comfortable and Rev stayed on his side and went right to sleep. I wasn't sure how I felt about sex in that room, or at all, with Steve in the house. There were so many conflicting thoughts, memories, and emotions fluttering around inside of me. Brad, Steve, Rev...

Luckily, I had consumed enough whiskey to drift off regardless. I woke to daylight and rolled over to find Rev still asleep. He had seemed more tired in general since he got back from Europe. Less fearsome. More human. Less Rev.

I snuck out of bed and went to check on Steve. Apparently he had made it to the bathroom, assumedly to puke, because I found him sleeping on the bathroom floor next to the toilet.

Poor guy. He didn't drink often and he had been hitting the whiskey hard. He had needed to, though.

I found his toothbrush and toothpaste in his bag, put it on the bathroom counter with a cup, and left him alone. Then I went upstairs and started coffee and breakfast. Steve wasn't hungover often, but I knew that when he was, he would be most helped by scrambled eggs, toast, coffee, water, and ham this morning, then pizza this afternoon.