Rock Bottom (Tristan & Danika #2)(37)

“Seriously, how much of our minutes per week together do you want to be passed out for?” I asked him, my voice quiet.

Dean still heard, and of course made a few inflammatory comments.

“Enough,” Tristan told me, his voice low and mean. “Not another word. I don’t want to hear it. You’ve sucked my dick way too many times to be acting like my mother.”

That was it. I was done.

Without another word, I turned on my heel and left.

I was at the car when I felt him behind me.

I whirled on him, glaring.

“That was so completely out of line,” I told him, my voice near a shout.

He threw his arms up in the air, his expression conciliatory. “I know. I’m sorry. As soon as the words left my mouth, I was sorry. I’ve been in a foul mood, and I didn’t mean to take it out on you. Dean is more than I can take right now.”

“Forget Dean. He’s bad for you. Can’t you see that? You should be staying as far away from him as you can.”

“It’s a bit late for that now. I’m f**king stuck with him, thanks to this record deal.” His tone changed, his eyes getting soft. I could never fight those soft golden eyes of his. “But you’re right. Let’s forget about him.” He moved close, pulling me against his chest, his big hand stroking over my hair with a feather light touch.

I let myself relax against him for a moment, unable to resist him for long, as usual. “The drinking has gotten out of hand, Tristan, and I don’t even want to know what else you’ve been using. Can’t you stay away from it all for even the few days you see me? Because if you can’t, that’s a good sign there’s a problem.”

“No, no, I can stay away. You’re right. I’ll lay off it, sweetheart. I’m just wound up so tight. Things have been tense. I can quit any time, though. Stopping on the weekends is no problem.”

My stomach tried to tie itself into some elaborate knots. Even he didn’t sound convinced.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his hands rubbing my shoulders. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Do you have any idea how much shit I will take from Dean about that comment you made?” I complained after we’d been standing like that for a while. “He didn’t need an excuse to talk nasty to me, but you’ve given him one.”

“What the f**k does that mean?” he said tersely, pulling back, his mood changing with a few short sentences. “What’s he been saying to you?”

I immediately backpedaled. Someone needed to kick Dean’s ass, but it didn’t need to be Tristan.

“Never mind,” I murmured, cuddling back into his chest.

He backed away. “No. I want to know what you’re talking about.”

I dug in stubbornly. “It’s stupid. Pointless to talk about when we have so many other things to discuss.”

“What things?”

“The fact that you’re always late. And more and more, you don’t answer my calls. The fact that you’re abusing your body on a regular basis. I’m not even seeing the half of it, but what I’ve seen is worrisome, and you tell me all the time that it’s worse when we’re apart. I think we need to look into some sort of grief counseling for you…and I think you need to start looking into getting some help for the substance abuse.”

He went stiff, his eyes going icy. “You just can’t help it, can you? Will you let up on the nagging for five f**king minutes?”

Without another word, he stormed off.

I felt like I’d been slapped. I stood there, stunned, for a long time, before I followed him.

I couldn’t figure out where that had come from. I didn’t think I nagged. In fact, I’d gone out of my way not to mention any of his bad habits, especially where alcohol was concerned, for a long time. I felt almost guilty at all the things I’d overlooked in my sympathy for what he was going through.

I was hurt by his words, but even so, I followed behind him.

He had too many weapons against me. Showing me his worst, then his best, followed by his withdrawal. Cold, then hot, then gone. His arsenal was too much for my smitten self, custom set to push all of my buttons.

It was a fact that I’d do just about anything to get more of his best.

It took me a long time to track him down. The apartment was small and crowded, and I kept getting stopped by the people I knew at the party to talk about costumes and the band.

I finally found him in the kitchen, talking to Kenny. I nodded at Kenny before moving to Tristan’s side, eyeing him carefully.

His face was stiff and blank, but he threw his arm around my shoulders as soon as I was within reach, kissing me on the head, and murmuring a barely perceptible, ”I’m sorry,” into my hair.

“S’okay,” I whispered back.

“I’m an ass.”

I smiled in spite of myself. “Only sometimes.”

“Let’s do something special next weekend. I know a guy with a place on the beach. Let’s go take a weekend for ourselves.”

I turned on him, smiling brilliantly. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”

“And I’ll cool off on the booze. For you.”

I hugged him as hard as my skinny arms were able to. “Love you. More than you know.”