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“I’m not being loud, old boy, you’re simply far too drunk for your own good,” Everett replied, shaking his head. “I thought I was the drunken fool in our group? Why are you trying to steal my title?”

Dominic let out a bitter laugh as he let his friends help him out of Amelia’s room.

“Yes, well, you weren’t living up to your title as of late,” Dominic slurred, “So I thought I’d sweep in and take your crown.”

Everett let out a huff of a laugh and shook his head.

“First I was drinking too much. Now not enough. You’ve got to make up your mind, old boy. I’m too simple to be pulled into so many directions.”

Dominic chuckled again, but Tristan didn’t seem to find it so funny.

“Jesus, he smells,” he muttered from Dominic’s other side.

“Yes, well, when you have nothing but whiskey in your veins that will happen,” Everett retorted, “I speak from experience.”

“Do not talk of me as if I am not here,” Dominic said bitterly, throwing a glare toward Tristan.

“Are you here?” Tristan asked, he and Everett slowly taking him down the stairs. “We wouldn’t know that to be true as of late. You’re never in meetings anymore. We don’t see you at White’s- though it is obvious you’re getting your whiskey somewhere- and you haven’t set foot in a boxing ring ever since Everett planted you that blow.”

Through his drunken sorrow Dominic felt a different sort of guilt. One for worrying his friends.

“Leave me alone,” he said bitterly. “I am coping with sorrows.”

“Sorrows?” Everett laughed. “As in feelings? Do you hear that Tristan? Sounds as if our Cold King has finally found some emotion.”

Dominic bristled at the moniker, and shoved away from his hands grips.

“Do not call me that,” he yelled, stumbling down the last two steps. “Shecalled me that.” He lowered his head and muttered, “It was a term of endearment.”

Tristan and Everett put their hands on their hips and shook their heads.

“I was trying to handle this with my usual witty banter but this is just too sad,” Everett said.

“Dominic,” Tristan said, his tone loud and firm, “Enough of this. Go back to Ellsworth. Go back to your wife. You’re miserable!”

“I’m fine!” Dominic shouted, then immediately groaned and held his aching head.

Tristan snorted as he and Everett grabbed his arms again, hauling him toward the back of the house.

“If you are fine than I am a lady,” Tristan retorted. “Seeing as how I have a prick between my legs, I highly doubt that you are fine.”

“We don’t know that,” Dominic retorted, “We’ve never seen it.”

He chortled at his own joke and then frowned.

“That was poor form. Apologies,” he slurred. “Where are you two taking me?”

“Outside,” Everett said, pushing open the rear doors that led to the terrace. “You reek of spirits and you need some fresh air. Some food too.”

“I told you I’m fine-”

“For heaven’s sake, you are not fine!” Tristan boomed, roughly pushing Dominic into one of the chairs beneath the moonlight.

“I have lost my father, I amlosingmy mother, my sister is coming undone by the stress, and curse it I cannot have you coming undone too!”

A stunning sense of sobriety overtook Dominic as he finally took in his friend’s face. He looked ravaged with sleep deprivation and stress, and though he couldn’t dare to look in the mirror, Dominic imagined he didn’t look as bad as Tristan did. Because unlike him, Tristan was facing his problems sober and outright. Like a man was supposed to do.

“Tristan, forgive me,” Dominic replied. “I never meant to become another one of your problems.”