Page 35

Remi sat on his living room floor, his back leaning against his sofa, three empty whiskey bottles lying on their side near his feet, and another half-empty one gripped one hand.

He stared straight ahead, the static on his television not even registering in his brain.

Somewhere in the distant awareness of his mind he heard a tap on his front door.

The only move he made was to allow his eyes to close.

A few moments later, he lifted the opened bottle to his lips and swallowed another mouthful.

At the same time he lowered the bottle to the floor, he heard another tap on the door.

He shook his head, took a deep breath and let it out in a slow measured breath.

The tap sounded again only more insistent this time, harder and longer.

Remi squeezed his eyes closed. “Go away,” he begged, his lips forming the words, though his voice did not join in.

The tap from before transformed itself into a persistent knock.

“Go away!” he bellowed at his door, his voice — thankfully — joining the party this time.

“No!” a soft voice answered.

He opened his eyes and swung his unsteady head toward his door. “Bailey?” he asked.

“Open the door, Remi. I’m not going away until we talk. And we have to talk soon because I only have about half an hour before I have to be at work.”

He looked down at himself, then at the bottles, one still in the process of being consumed. “‘S’not a good time.”

“This is the only time, Remi. Open the door or I’ll go around to the back and climb through a window!” she yelled.

“Locked,” he managed to answer.

“Not if I throw a rock through them, they’re not!”

Sighing deeply as he forced his drunken body up and toward the door, he unlocked it, opened it, and walked away, leaving her to come in or not.

He went right back to his spot in the living room, after a quick stumble past his kitchen counter where a case of whiskey sat clothed in their purple and gold drawstring bags, waiting for their turn to numb his soul.

Bailey followed him in the house, pausing to close his door.

She watched as he dug a bottle out of a case that was already missing several and wove his way back to the living room, collapsing on the floor while spilling part of the bottle of whiskey he’d held gripped in his right hand and been sipping from the whole time. “What are you doing, Remi?”

“Planning my future,” he slurred.

“You planning on being a drunk?”

“Hey, if I can manage to afford the amount of whiskey it will take, it’s not a bad idea.”

“It makes no sense, Remi. Why do this to yourself?”

“I’m just having a little drink.”

“Or ten, or twenty. I mean, how much have you drunk so far?”

He allowed his head to bob a little as it swiveled to focus on her. “How many bottles do you see?”

“Five. Three of them are empty, one well on its way.”

“That’s how many I’ve had.”

“I thought shifters couldn’t get drunk. I’m especially surprised Dragons can.”

“Ah, you’ve been told the truth. Well, it’s hard to get a shifter drunk, and if you want to stay drunk, you have to keep drinking.”

“I understand.” She watched him, knowing he was drunker than anybody she’d ever seen, but also knowing it would only take a few minutes for him to sober up if necessary.

She decided to launch right into everything she needed to say.

“Tempest told me about herself, about you, about everybody. She told me everything.”

“Should have been me.”

“You had more than enough time to tell me and didn’t manage to get around to it.

Honestly, I’m glad it was Tempest. It gave me time to think about everything from the point of view of my friend confiding in me instead of from me trying to make whatever it was you were feeling okay.

Because I do that, you know? Put other people first. I’d have tried to make it all okay for you, instead of worrying about me. ”

Remi nodded.

“Her telling me gave me a chance to figure out what I’m feeling instead of worrying about what you’re feeling.”

“Good for you.”

She cut her eyes to him, sizing him up. She’d never seen him drunk, but she was getting the distinct impression he was a surly drunk.

“Make you feel better to be sarcastic with me? Go for it. I don’t care anymore.

And since there’s no reason to carry this out any longer, I’d thought I’d get right to it.

I’m done, Remi. I’ve had enough. After having all my questions answered, and all my wants weighed out against all the risks, none of the risks are worth the devastation I’d experience later when your path inevitably crossed Cristie’s again.

So, I’m out. We’re over. It would have never worked anyway. ”

“It would have worked,” he said, the hint of a snarl teasing the pronunciation of his words.

“How? I want children. You can’t give me children. I want a family. You can’t promise me a family.”

“I can provide both! Maybe not from my body, but I can give you both! My father didn’t give me to my mother, but we are still a family! I was loved! I am loved!” he yelled so loudly that she winced.

“And what happens in ten or twelve years when Cristie happens to come visit at a time we’re not aware and you stumble across her and this whole thing starts again?

I’m left alone with however many kids we’ve decided we need, while you follow her around like a lost puppy and I feel like I’m less than dirt because I’m not her and she’s all you can see?

No! That’s not the life I want; that threat hanging over my head all the time, I’d have bleeding ulcers.

I could never completely believe in us. I’d always be waiting for the other shoe to fall.

I wish you the best, Remi. I wish you every happiness, but I can’t do this. I’m just not strong enough.”

“You can’t do this because you won’t even try! It’s better I found out now!” he spat.

Bailey nodded slowly. “You’re right.” She got up and walked across the room, giving him and his whiskey a wide berth.

She opened the door and stood there, looking back at him before she walked away for good.

“I hope you follow your heart, Remi. She’s a beautiful woman, and as sweet and kind as she is beautiful. There are worse things in life.”

“Like thinking you’re loved when you’re really not.”

“If that makes it easier for you… sure. Take care, Remi.” Bailey walked through the door and pulled it softly closed behind herself.

She got in her car and started the engine, backed out and despite the tears and sobs that wracked her body, managed to drive away without a single glance back at Remi’s house.

Which was a good thing. Had she looked back she’d have seen the unopened whiskey bottle he’d been gripping in one hand crash through the window and land in the yard.

Remi scowled as he listened to Bailey driving away.

“Don’t fucking need her,” he growled. “Don’t fucking need anybody!

Fuck both of them!” He lifted the bottle he’d almost finished and guzzled down the rest of it, then threw it at the broken window to land in the yard a few feet from the full one.

“Can’t fucking depend on anybody anymore,” he snarled, rolling to his knees to get up off the floor.

He drunkenly wove his way into the kitchen, picked up the case of whiskey and carried it back to the living room where he returned to the floor and proceeded to drink himself into oblivion, or at the very least, an unconscious state.