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“Don’t be, I’m glad you felt you could come to me.” Jack says reassuringly.

“Leave Brad to me, he will be okay, he’s strong and resilient, but we all need a little help to get ourselves out of the darkness.”

“Thank you.” I sniff.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” I nod. He’s giving me the dad look, and I’d laugh if it weren’t for the seriousness of the situation. I’m lucky to have someone who cares, who’s in my corner, but it’s still not enough to expose my secrets. No, this is a battle I have to fight alone, I just had to make sure Brad didn’t fight his solo because he’s spent his whole life fighting, it’s time someone fought for him, and that’s what I’m going to do, I’m going to fix this mess, and hope he’ll forgive me when I’ve done it.

Chapter Forty Seven

Brad

I’m woken from my slumber to the sound of someone beating down my door. I lift my head, squinting at my beside clock: 11.38 am.

Shit!

I clutch my head; a wave of dizziness and nausea hits me as I bring myself to a seating position. Blurred memories of last night fight their way to the forefront of my mind. Gabriella, whiskey, tears, flashbacks. I pray it’s all a bad dream, but when I swallow and the taste of stale whiskey hits, I know it’s all true.

The banging gets louder, and I throw back the sheets. I’m still in last night’s suit pants and nothing else. I make my way to the front door.

“What the fuuu…” I stop when Jack, holding Elle in his arms is the only thing I see.

“Language,” Jack scolds.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well good morning to you too, sunshine,” Jack says sarcastically. He pushes past me, not waiting for an invite.

“Look as lovely as it is to see you both, I’m kind of busy. I’ve got things to do.”

“By things to do you mean drowning yourself in whiskey and avoiding your responsibilities?” Jack eyes me as he balances Elle on the edge of my kitchen counter and hands her a snack out of what can only be described as a carryon bag.

“You are not changing her diaper on there,” I say in a panic, remembering the horror of diaper-gate last year.

“Calm down, she’s in big girl pants. We are using the potty, aren’t we, sweetie?” he says, stroking her hair out of her face. Elle nods, biting down on her cookie. “Coffee,” I ask, needing to distract myself.

“Please.”

“Does Elle want some juice?” I ask Jack, but I look at Elle. When she turns her head and her angelic face smiles it calms me in a way I’ve not experienced. Had she not been here, I’d have slung Jack out, yelled and banged around, and blocked out the world. But she doesn’t deserve to see that.

I make our coffees, black for me, creamer for Jack, and pull one of my nephew’s plastic cups I keep here for when he visits and fill it with apple juice.

“So…” Jack begins, clearing his throat. “Gabby came to see me.” My spine stiffens. “I don’t need to know. I’m not here to judge and I’m all ears if you wanna talk, but she’s worried about you, and so am I.”

I pass him the drinks, and lean back against the counter, resting the coffee mug against my bare stomach, not giving a damn that it’s scolding hot.

“I’m fine. She didn’t need to worry you.” I shrug.

He eyes me like I’m full of shit.

“Look, I’m just going through some stuff. I don’t want to talk about it and I may have had a drink or two but it ends today.”

“Really?” Jack questions.

“It was just a little relapse. It’s been a lot lately and…” I stop, my emotions getting caught in my throat.

“I’m fine, but I do appreciate you coming over.”

There’s a knock at my door.