Well, I’m the fucking governor. I don’t get casual putt-putt golf outings, or an evening at the movies, without picking up damn photogs or having at least one security guy shadowing me.
I change into shorts and a T-shirt and make my way downstairs again. I wish I’d begged Casey to come home with us, or to give me a pill before we left the restaurant. It’d already be kicking in rightnow if I had. Except she drove Declan today, so I guess she had to take him home. I spend the rest of the afternoon and evening with my dad/brother mask on and trying to keep it firmly in place.
When Casey drops by a little before ten that night, on the pretense of needing to discuss an e-mail she received, we go into my basement home office, lock the door, and I’ve already got a bottle of waterstashed there. I take off my glasses and set them on my desk, then grab the water bottle and twist the cap off it.
Now ready, I hold out my right hand for the pill, but Case looks me in the eyes before uncapping the small, amber bottle.
“Nodrinking tonight,” she says in that quiet, serious tone she’s got.
I nod.
“Have you had anything already? Any alcohol?”
“No. Water and soda.” My hand’sstill out.
She hesitates. “Do you want me to hang out for a while in case you need me?”
It’s tempting. Except I don’t want the boys, or my brothers, to see how weak I truly am right now.
That means I do what I’ve become very adroit at—I deflect. “What about your date?” I heard her tell someone earlier she had plans tonight. Come to think of it, so did Declan.
“I didn’t have a date. I was justgetting out of being dragged into something. I knew you’d need me.”
Stillhasn’t handed me a pill.
“Giveme the motherfucking pill, Case.”
I only realize I’ve said it out loud when I get the eyebrow from her. If she was kinky, I’d say it was Dom eyebrow. Or, Domme, in her case.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my gaze dropping.
“Youhatethese pills,” she points out to me. “I’m trying to understandwhat’s going on tonight. Your brothers are here, the boys are home, and—”
“Because the wind’s screaming,” I whisper. “She’snot here, and the wind’s screaming. She should’ve been here. Shedeservedto be here, and she’s not, and I’m not sleeping. I’ve slept less than two hours in the past two days.Please, Case. Give me the damn pill. Ineedit.”
She slowly nods and shakes one into my hand.Then she caps the bottle and slips it into her front pocket. “Will you let me find you someone to talk to? I know that first medication didn’t help, but maybe if we—”
“No.” I wince as I swallow the damn thing and chase it with water.
My GP tried me on Wellbutrin and I only lasted three weeks on that. I hated the way I felt on it. The sleeping pills lasted three days. The Xanax sucks, but it’sa multi-tasker. I can use it as-needed, instead of needing to take it all the time. It’ll help me drop to sleep, and it helps stave off panic attacks when I have to fly. I can also dissolve one of the nasty-tasting tablets under my tongue, if necessary, to kick in faster.
I slump back against the desk, the water bottle still clutched in my left hand.
Casey reaches up and smooths my hair back,careful not to look me in the eyes.
I cry when she does that when I’m this…vulnerable.
I don’t know why.
I don’t want to, either.
“I’m worried about you,” she says.
“I’m worried about me, too.”
We stand there like that for a couple of minutes, not speaking. Above us, I hear my brothers and my children talking, laughing.
Life goes on.
