Two years after a horrible accident, Kinsley's determined to make it through vet school, but she didn't expect to meet country boy Noel McLean who's just as mysterious as he is charming.
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Kinsley Hastings suffers from PTSD. After surviving a fata...
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Cole
"You're too late."
After a day of touring the farm with Kinsley and Noel, I'm sitting on the back porch with Jack. The fire before us crackles and sends sparks shooting into the sky.
Jack's words cause my grip to tighten around my glass of bourbon. I stare into the fire, wishing Jack would stop pressing me.
I already tried to prevent Noel from engaging with Kinsley. That shit. It did nothing. It resulted in me feeling gutted. I have no right to mess with their relationship.
"I'm not driving a wedge between Noel and Kinsley," I say. "This will play out however they please."
Jack slams his drink down, turning to me. His watery, drunk gaze pisses me off. He sways a little.
Just like his son, Jack drinks when he's upset. The only difference is Jack knows when to quit. He doesn't drink all day. He's aware of the consequences.
Most times.
Still, I don't like it.
"That's not good enough, Cole! They need to be separated. We don't want Noel to have another breakdown."
Sighing, I toss back the rest of my drink. Ice clinks against the glass as I set it down on the small table between us.
I grab the poker and stoke the fire. More sparks rise into the night sky. "Mate, Noel's heading down a dangerous pathway. He continues to refuse to go to therapy or discuss the past with me. He's bound for a breakdown. Kinsley will speed that up for him. We just need to be prepared. "
Jack's features are filled with disgust.
I adjust the flannel coat around my body. Despite the above average weather today, the heat hasn't lasted into the evening.
"He'll never recover," Jack argues.
"Rubbish. Noel's stronger than he gives himself credit for. Someone like him needs to be at an all-time low before finding their way back."
Jack snorts and grabs the bottle of bourbon. He refills his glass. "Some friend you are. You want Noel to suffer?"
I pinch the bridge of my nose. There's no use in having this discussion when Jack's drunk. He won't remember it tomorrow. He's also belligerent when he's drunk.
"I want Noel to heal, Jack. Your grandson is my brother. But in order to heal, he needs to embrace the pain and trauma. He shuts it down. Buries it. It's poisoning him."
Jack shakes his head and leans back in his wooden chair. He sips his drink. His hand is shaking so badly the liquid sloshes over the edge.
I can't handle this anymore.
Collecting the bottle of bourbon and my empty glass, I tell Jack I'm heading to bed. He murmurs incoherent words.
The neutral look on my face fades once I'm in the kitchen. I glance at the bottle in my hand. No one is perfect. Drinking with Jack is a form of enabling. I'm enabling him to treat his emotions with alcohol. It's wrong. I have to be better.
