Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“It’s time for some tough love,” I said after a moment. “Sawyer has to man the fuck up.”
“Kon, I don’t know if—” she began.
“You do things your way. Gentle and caring and soft. Boone and I are going to do things our way.” Without a word, I turned and headed down the stairs to the basement, Boone on my heels.
As expected, Sawyer was passed out on the sectional there, a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand, resting against his side, and a picture of Annie on his chest. God, I hated seeing him like this. But that was exactly why I was doing this. One way or another, he had to snap out of this state. See a therapist, go backpacking through South America, join the circus. I didn’t know what he needed, but I knew for sure he would never forgive himself if something happened to Lucy.
“Hey. Wake up.” I pulled the bottle and picture from his hands, setting them on the nearest table.
Sawyer grunted and turned over.
“Sawyer!” I raised my voice and gave his shoulder a shove. “Wake up!”
“Fuck…” He moaned sleepily, resting his arms over his face.
“Get up, Sawyer.” I yanked him up by the shirt, pushing him into a sitting position. His head lolled to one side even as his eyes opened into slits of irritation.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” he rasped, his words slurred as he sneered.
“Do you have any idea what’s going on around you while you drink yourself to death?” I snapped. I lightly slapped his cheeks. “Wake the fuck up and pay attention.”
“Knock it off!” Sawyer swatted at me, tripping as he tried to get up and lunge at me. He landed on his stomach on the floor and while I hated being an asshole, this was what he needed. We’d tried everything else.
“Nate sent someone to watch your house!” I yelled. “To potentially try to break in again. To hurt Lucy. Do you hear what I’m telling you? Get up, Sawyer.” I stood over him, hands on my hips. I glanced over at Boone who gave me a little nod, letting me know he agreed with what I was doing.
“Wh-what?” Sawyer was still face down on the floor but had lifted his head. “Lucy okay?”
“Yes, because she called me and I chased the guy off. What happens when I’m on the road? What happens when I’m at fucking practice? You can’t fucking drink yourself into oblivion every goddamn night. I am very sorry Annie is gone, but Lucy is still here, and she needs you. Your sister needs you. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
There was a long silence as Sawyer tried to sit up. He was still completely wasted, barely able to keep his eyes open, and his movements were jerky and awkward. It was killing me not to help him, and the look on Boone’s face told me he felt the same way, but Sawyer had to be the one to crawl out of his self-imposed hell. He had to care more about Lucy than the demons that were haunting him.
Finally, after three attempts to get back on the couch, I reached out a hand.
His bleary eyes met mine and neither of us moved. The ultimate standoff. He hated me for calling him on his bullshit and I hated doing it. But someone had to.
He finally slapped his palm against mine and let me haul him onto the couch.
“Where is she?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Upstairs.”
He nodded.
“I’m going to sleep here tonight,” I said finally. “You need to sleep this off, but in the morning, you have to think about what you are doing. I cannot be here every night. And obviously Nate is not giving up.”
Sawyer nodded wearily. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”
“I am not the one you have to apologize to.”
I turned and headed back up the stairs.
I’d made my point.
Now it was up to him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lucy
“I can’t do this.” Sawyer put his head in his hands. “It’s too much, Luce.”
“You have to. I know it’s hard”
“No, you don’t!” he snapped. “You have no idea what this feels like. It feels like I’m dying, and this isn’t how I want to go.”
We were only around eighteen hours into Sawyer’s detox and it was already hellish. He’d been asleep for more than half of it, Kon and Boone sleeping on recliners in the basement to make sure he didn’t drink.
The three of us had poured out every drop of alcohol we could find in the house, and there had been a lot. Kon had confiscated Sawyer’s phone and wallet, and he wasn’t giving them back until this was over. He was right—this was the tough love my brother needed.
“You were killing yourself with alcohol,” I reminded him.
“So what? I get to make that choice.”
“Not on my watch. And you wouldn’t let me do it to myself, either.”