I rolled my eyes. “Suit yourself.”
I picked up the bottle and twisted off the cap before taking a sip.
She held her hand out. “Give it to me.”
I passed it over and watched as she brought the bottle to her lips. She choked it down.
“Smooth,” she gasped, passing it back.
I took it with a chuckle.
“That reminds me of my dad.”
I was taking a sip when she spoke, so I swallowed and looked at the bottle. “What does? Vodka?”
She nodded.
“Yeah,” she answered, taking it back.
Instead of taking another drink, she examined the bottle. “He always said that different drinks provided a different kind of drunk. He said when he had beer, it was just a normal drunk. You know, he and the guys are having fun bowling or something. Nothing exciting, but easy-going and fun. He said when he’d drink brown whiskey, he’d get depressed—end up crying and passing out as his mind seemed to be transported to the past where he would just think about my mom.” She took a drink and passed it back. “Wine made him happy and sloppy. He’d fall down a flight of steps and laugh about it. But vodka, the only time he’d drink it was at family parties—we didn’t have family, so we’d spend most holidays with my dad’s friends that we called family. I don’t know what it was about Thanksgiving, but every year he’d get shit face drunk off vodka, and he’d either get into a fist fight with someone, or he’d pull out a gun on them.”
My back straightened, and I raised my brows. “Did he ever actually shoot anyone?”
She laughed. “Only once.”
She reached for the bottle, and for the first time, I had second thoughts about giving it to her. After I realized that she didn’t have a gun, I passed it over.
“It wasn’t that bad, though. He just shot his business partner in the thigh. He was fine.” She waved her hand through the air.
My mouth fell open. “Why did he shoot him?”
She shrugged. “They were having a good time, drinking and talking about the past. They started talking about this job they did together, and Craig, my dad’s partner, admitted to pocketing some extra cash that my dad knew nothing about. It caused an argument, and of course, Dad pulled a gun. Nobody thought he’d use it, because he’d done this every year. Nobody raced to stop him, and before anyone knew what was happening, he was shooting Craig in the thigh to teach him a lesson.”
“Didn’t the hospital ask about what happened?”
She snorted. “We didn’t go to the hospital. They used the bottle of vodka to sanitize their tools, then they removed the bullet and stitched him up themselves, right there on the table next to the turkey and stuffing.” She shrugged and took another pull from the bottle.
That was definitely way different from my Thanksgiving.
Chapter 19
Amelia
Oliver and I had half the bottle gone before I excused myself to get cleaned up for the night. Things were changing with us, and I wasn’t sure what could be done about it. We were getting closer with every passing day. We were comfortable with one another. Trust was being built. I was getting attached, and even though I knew I needed to sever that connection to protect myself because he said he wasn’t interested in a relationship, deep down, I didn’t want to. I couldn’t even imagine being out there on the road all alone. I wanted—no, I needed him at my side. I told myself that once I found my new home, I could let him go, but I was lying to myself, and I knew it, even if I wasn’t willing to admit it.
I stripped down and stepped into the shower. I closed my eyes and let the water rain down over my head. I had no idea where life was taking me, and that was scary. I was all alone for the first time in my life. No dad, no Alex. Just me. Well, this guy and I let get too close. He had some kind of spell over me that I couldn’t break, that I didn’t want to break. Part of me hoped that we could end the mess we were in so we could both start over, together.
I was halfway through washing my hair when I realized what my dad meant by different alcohol bringing a different drunk. It was only the second time in my life that I’d consumed alcohol. The first time, I had beer and tequila and had a blast dancing with complete strangers. The vodka, it made me feel heavier somehow. My mind wasn’t easy-going or easily occupied. I found myself thinking about the future and what would come. I was having dark thoughts filled with worry about being alone the rest of my life, losing Oliver when all this mess was over, and wondering if I’d ever really escape the hard life I’d been born into.
A coldness swept over my backside, but a moment later, it was gone, and warmth took over as Oliver wrapped his arms around me and pressed his chest to my back. His lips found my shoulder as he kissed his way to my neck. That was all it took to clear my mind of all my troubles. I felt my muscles ease against him, and my head fell back to rest on his shoulder as he kissed my neck. I knew I was being silly, but it felt like Oliver sensed my distress because he came in at the perfect moment to take it all away.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he whispered in my ear.
The corner of my mouth tugged up into a smile as I turned in his arms. I wrapped mine around his neck.
“What? You never met someone whose dad attempted to shoot someone every Thanksgiving?” I joked.
He didn’t even crack a smile. He just kept his hooded eyes locked with mine as he gently shook his head.
