Alcohol You Later (65)

I shouldn’t be put in charge of a dog, much less two young children. Who the hell was I to start believing for even one minute I could ever be what they need?

“Stop looking at me like I’m going to break,” I tell Raven when her prying eyes become too much. I know she’s worried about me, but she shouldn’t be. I’m the last person who deserves anyone’s sympathy. Especially right now.

“Sorry.” Raven’s eyes water. Her lips draw into a straight line as she moves across the room to stand by the door.

To distance herself from me.

Hurting her makes me an even bigger ass, but my control is slipping fast, and it’s probably for the best. That’s what I tell myself—right back to justifying my shitty actions, my skin crawling with the need for a drink. Something—anything—to take the edge off.

I should have stayed in my lane…kept my distance. Now they’re in my heart and in my blood, and there’s no escape.

When they’re up, I’m up, and it’s the highest of highs, but this—this is the lowest I’ve ever felt.

I don’t want to feel anymore.

“Knock, knock.” I turn in the direction of the chipper greeting to find a young girl in scrubs slipping into the room. “I’m Lisa from radiology.” She flashes her badge. “Here to take Ava down for a CT scan.”

“Great,” I say, a wave of instant relief pouring over me. I just want to get this test done and know exactly what we’re up against.

“Which one of you would like to accompany her?” Lisa moves to the bed, disconnecting the monitors from the wall.

“She will.” I wave a hand back toward the door where Raven’s still standing.

Her head whips around, the urge to challenge my decision sitting on the tip of her tongue.

Our eyes meet, and her face softens when I mouth the word please.

“I will,” Raven agrees, yet again granting me grace when I deserve it least.

“Great,” Lisa says, struggling to manipulate the hospital bed through the door. “Follow me.”

I collapse into the chair in the corner of the room the second I’m alone, staring down at my fists, flexing and unflexing. At the veins in my arms filled to nearly bursting with tension.

I scrub a hand over my face, biting back tears, when my self-loathing is yet again interrupted.

“Are you the parent of Ava Ritter?”

Ritter. Ellie’s last name. I don’t know why that bothers me. Why I have the sudden urge to correct her. That’s her name. I have laid no claim to her legally.

“Uh, yeah.” I clear my throat. “I’m her father.”

“Hi. I’m Inez, a hospital social worker. I need to ask you a few questions about your daughter’s injury, if that’s okay?”

A social worker. I’ve had these kids mere weeks and am already under investigation.

“Sure,” I say, motioning for her to sit, because something tells me that was a rhetorical question, and I can’t actually say no.

She drags the chair from the wall so it’s facing me, before pulling out a thick black binder. “Ava doesn’t have your last name.”

“Is that a question?”

She sighs and smirks, apparently, finding me amusing. “Is there a reason for that?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know she even existed until a little over a month ago.”

Inez nods, jotting something down on the page. “And that was her mother I just saw on the way to radiology?”

“No.” I clear my throat. “That was my girlfriend, Raven. Ava’s mother is deceased.”

Her eyes soften. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks. But I didn’t really know her. It was a one-time thing that resulted in a pregnancy—twins.” I stare down at my feet, her watchful eye making me antsy. “She hid the children from me until her sister dropped them off after her passing.”

The social worker sits back, crossing one leg over the other. “That’s a lot,” she says, still scrutinizing me, making my skin crawl. “How are you handling that?”

“Really fucking well, obviously,” I snap. “My kid is in the hospital.” I slam both hands down on the arms of the chair, gripping it tight.

She rears back. “Mr. Potter. I’m not accusing you of anything. I apologize if that’s the impression you’re under. It says here your daughter took an accidental fall while playing.”

I pinch and tug at my lower lip, shaking my head. “I shouldn’t have taken her up there.”

She nods. “Life’s full of coulda, woulda, shoulda. Your intent is what matters here. And I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume that you didn’t mean for your daughter to get injured.”

“Of course not.” I bring a hand to my chest, trying to rub out the ache. “If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Her lips curve slightly into a sympathetic smile. “Well, allow me to officially welcome you to the wonderful world of parenthood.” Inez holds out a hand, which I reluctantly shake. I don’t tell her she shouldn’t bother welcoming me into her club. Another week and a half and these kids will be free of me.

Though I have this sinking feeling I’ll never be free of them.

We talk for another twenty or so minutes. Well, she talks. I mostly listen as she offers me resources for counseling and support groups for single parents and a slew of other shit I’m not really paying attention to.