Alcohol You Later (50)

The night is on fire, and for me, it’s the ultimate therapy. There’s no place I think more clearly than when I’m here on my throne, beneath the blinding lights and screaming fans.

Tucked away in my corner, I keep time, my taps and blows the steady heartbeat that keeps everyone else from falling off track. While the others play to the masses, I go to a place that’s mine alone—another dimension, almost.

As the spotlights darken and we exit stage left, it hits me. I know exactly what I need to do.

But not before suffering through an hour of interviews and backstage pass meet and greets.

By the time I reach the bus, I’ve been put through the wringer. The reporters were brutal—most of the questions directed at me and all pertaining to yesterday’s ordeal.

Furious with myself for slipping up so bad, I storm onto the bus in a rage and head straight to the cabinet above the stove. I rip it open, grab a bottle of Jack by the neck and crush it in the sink. My pulse soars on impact—the sound of crunching glass cathartic. Heart pounding, I grab another, and it quickly suffers the same fate. With every bottle I smash, I feel closer to taking control of my life.

“What’s going on—”

I turn in the direction of her startled voice to find Raven, staring at me all bleary-eyed, her jaw hanging.

“Nicholas?”

“I want it gone.” I say, destroying a fifth of Crown. “All of it.”

Her feet pad across the floor as she creeps up behind me, snaking her arms around my waist and gripping my wrists with gentle hands. “Okay,” she says, resting her forehead on my back. “We’ll get rid of it.”

Her presence soothes me in a way nothing else ever has, her voice a cooling balm to the inferno raging inside me.

“I’m going to start going to meetings.” I rest my palms on the edge of the counter. My entire body trembles as I hang my head in defeat. “I’m so sorry, Ray.”

“I know,” she whispers, placing a tender kiss on the back of my shoulder before moving to retrieve a few liquor bottles. “The babies are asleep in your room. We can do this quietly.”

I watch as she uncaps them, pouring their contents over the shards of glass.

I retrieve the ones she can’t reach, lining them up next to her on the counter. She empties them one by one. As I watch my crutch spill down the drain, I’m consumed with a mixture of fear and hope. Fear that I won’t be able to conquer the part of me that’s already fiending for a drink. Hope for what my life could be, with this woman by my side, if I succeed.

“There.” She places the last of the bottles on the counter. “All gone.”

“I’m such a fuck up.” I stare down at her shimmering green eyes, hating myself for the sadness I see reflected back at me.

“You fucked up, yes.” She turns away and begins plucking the broken glass from the sink and depositing it into the trash can. “But you are not a fuck up. You are so much more than your mistakes, Nicholas.”

“Please stop cleaning my mess.” I grab her arm to move it from the sink. “I’ll get it.”

“I want to,” she says, jerking away. “I need something to distract me.”

“From what?” I lean against the counter, my heart swelling as I watch a smile stretch her lips.

“You.”

She’s so beautiful I can hardly stand it. Her hair is piled in a heap on top of her head, her face fresh, clear of any makeup. In a hoody and joggers, she’s more enticing than any of those half-clothed women throwing themselves at me tonight.

I don’t know how I ever imagined I could let this woman go—watch her be with anyone else. She’s everything I was too scared to hope for in this life—a gift I don’t deserve but will fight until my last breath trying to earn, if I’m fortunate enough to be granted another chance.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

Her back goes rigid, her breasts heaving with a sharp intake of breath. “Please don’t.” Raven’s voice is barely a whisper.

Her denial stings, even though I knew I was pushing it to suggest any form of intimacy so soon after our fight. “I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

“It’s not that I don’t want,” she says, abandoning her task. Raven turns to face me, desire flaming in her heady eyes. “I want you, Nicholas. I always want you.” Her shaky hand traces the scruff on my cheek, her throat moving with a hard swallow. “But right now, you are my unhealthy addiction.”

“What are you—” Bile rises in my throat. “I thought—I’m doing this for you…for us,” I choke out. “I thought we had a chance.”

“I believe we do.” Tears well in her eyes. “But until I know we’re both in this for the right reasons…until I can be certain I’m not chasing after something unattainable—” She brings a hand to her chest, curling her fingers into a fist. “I have to be sure, Nick.”





As soon as we arrive at our next venue in Houston, I set out for Nick’s bus. I was in such a rush to get away from him last night before I could do anything stupid that I left my cell in his room. It was probably for the best that I didn’t have it when I got back to my bunk. The sexual tension between the two of us in that kitchen could’ve fueled a small country. Pretty sure I’d have broken down and called, or at the very least engaged in a little textual relations.