My book didn’t provide the distraction it should’ve as I eavesdropped on one side of a clearly heated conversation.
Harrison paced the hallway, each footstep echoing across the wood. “Take it you haven’t heard about the weather we’re getting here?”
A woman’s voice crackled over the phone, and he clenched his fist against his thigh. “I’m going to Blair’s. There isn’t more to say.”
His voice changed, now holding a bitter and angry tone I hadn’t heard before. I sat up straighter.Have I ever spoken to my mother that way?Probably as a teenager, but this was a grown man who had strong feelings. I desperately wanted to know why.
“Go be with Hank. We all know you’d rather see him, so cut the bullshit and stop trying to guilt me into something I physically can’t do.” He disconnected the call and stood with his back toward me.
“You drink whiskey, Becca?” he asked, his voice hard and angry. “I’m getting one.”
“Uh.” I thought of ten different reasons why I should say no, but none of them made sense. He wanted a drinking buddy, and I liked the taste of whiskey. I rarely drank so this could be fun. “Sure. I’d love one.”
“Great.” He bustled around the kitchen for several minutes before bringing me a small glass with amber liquid and two large cubes. His eyes held the same sad and angry expression they’d taken on during his phone conversation. I wanted to ask what had happened, but that crossed the line. He’d either share, or not. I bit my tongue to prevent the question from slipping out. Not probing went against every gene in my DNA.
Harrison dropped onto the couch and then took a long sip without a single wince.Impressive.I smelled the rich liquor before taking my own tiny sip and cringing at the strength of it, setting my glass beside me on a coaster.
“Don’t like it?”
“No. No. I do. It’s strong.” The tension in the room made me tense. Though I knew it wasn’t directed at me, as an empath I absorbed the feelings of everyone around me, and I hated it. My gut yelled at me toFill the silence!
“I don’t drink often. You know—with the girls, I’m always on call. Could you imagine me showing up at the hospital drunk? It would make the news!” I swallowed another sip like a badass, refusing to wince. “When I do let loose, I like a nice margarita. A little fruit, a little salt, and a few tingles down my body. That’s my favorite.”
“Are you nervous? You talk a lot when you’re nervous. I’d hoped we were beyond that.” He frowned before holding my gaze and taking another long drink. “You also don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it.”
“I’m not nervous. Well, maybe a little.” I held the drink closer to my chest. “You can’t drink alone. That’s a rule. I’m drinking with you and totally not thinking of the millions of questions I have.”
“You can ask me anything.” He slung his arm over the back of the couch, his attention solely on me. “What’s on your mind?”
“Uh, how’s the family?” Flustered by his complete focus, my voice pitched way too high and my words tumbled out like a squeak.
He bared his teeth in something resembling a smile before taking another long sip. “Ah, yes. My mother.” His gaze roamed over my face, lingering on my lips for a second, before he let out a sigh. “She wants me to feel bad for not flying out to California tomorrow.”
Wait, what?“That makes no sense. The airports are shut down for the weather.”
“Yeah.” He let out a bitter laugh.
“She doesn’t like the fact you’re going to your sister’s?”
“Correct. I mentioned Blair and I are close, and my mom isn’t a fan because that leaves her youngest son out. Hank is…” He stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hank isn’t a bad guy. We have different definitions of what hard work is. He’s an entitled prick, and my parents enable that behavior. But Blair and I see through his charade and call him out.”
“Surely, they all understand why you can’t go visit him, though? The blizzard has knocked out half our state.”
He made ano shitface and shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. He coaches university football, too, and his team made it to the bowl championship next week. Instead of my parents traveling to see my sister and her three young children for Christmas, they want us all to fly out a week early to support Hank.”
Harrison Cooper had layers. I would need six blizzards to figure them all out. I took a bigger sip, this time not wincing, and enjoyed the slight numbness it gave my throat. Maybe there was a reason for a drink this strong. Hmm.
I refocused on his strained shoulders. “Okay. I’m confused. They didn’t want to spend the holidays with their grandchildren?”
“Correct. They sent presents, which they felt was enough. Because Hank did something on his own for the first time in his life and the world should stop and celebrate him.” He downed the last of his glass and slammed it on the side table. “I know you’re thinking I’m a grown man and shouldn’t have parent issues. It’s pathetic. But you know what my parents did when I played in my first bowl? Nothing. They didn’t fly out because Hank was still in high school and had a baseball game. Arec-leaguebaseball game.”
“No.” I scooted closer to him and patted his thigh. “I don’t think it’s pathetic. I’m sorry you’ve had these experiences.”
He stared at my hand for a beat before relaxing. “I get in a real shitty mood whenever I talk to my mom. She has this unique talent for making me feel like everything is my fault. Catholic guilt is real.”
I smiled. “Parents must learn that skill in parenting school.”
“Parenting school?” He laughed, scrubbing his palms over his eyes. “This is embarrassing.”
