Page 102 of See You Maybe
He bared his teeth at the glass before tipping it up again. Then again, Seamus’s penchant for poor decisions was exactly why the pain rooted deep in his soul would never go away.
“Why don’t we go get something to eat?” Chris shifted to get up.
“No,” Declan tapped the counter, and the bartender refilled his glass.
“You’re too big for me to carry out of here.” Chris chuckled, but his worry rang through the sound.
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“Dec, you’re my best friend. I’m not leaving you wasted in some dive bar. C’mon. Let’s go back to my place. You can drink yourself senseless there.” He glanced at the bottle still in the bartender’s hand. “Something that isn’t going to poison you.”
Declan had been drinking steadily for the last few days, anything to quiet his thoughts—the knowledge of what could never change. His mind swam in whiskey, but somewhere in his liquor-soaked brain he knew Chris was right.
He sat up straighter and pulled a wad of hundred-dollar bills from his wallet. He held them out, and when the bartender reached for them, Declan plucked the whisky bottle out of his hand and stood.
“Passing out in a bar would be irresponsible for a man in my position.” Declan huffed a laugh before heading to the door.
“Hey!”
Declan heard Chris making excuses to the angry bartender, as he pushed open the door to the parking lot and blinked at the sudden light.
“Fuck. Is it still daytime?”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Chris groused, jogging to catch up to him. “What the fuck?” he exclaimed, when Declan slumped against the top of Chris’s small sports car, and the whiskey bottle banged the window.
“Sorry.” Declan managed to seat himself in the low-slung seats, even though he had to fold his body in half to get in. He unscrewed the top of the bottle and took a long swig as Chris pulled out onto the road.
“Why aren’t you at work? I called your office yesterday, and they said you hadn’t come back yet.”
“Tomorrow. I told them tomorrow.” Declan didn’t want to talk about work. For the first time in his life, it didn’t interest him in the slightest.
“Drink with me,” Declan slurred when they reached Chris’s apartment. He tapped his bottle against the drink Chris poured for himself from his own bar. “Slainte.”
They drank in silence for several minutes before Chris retrieved a bottle from the bar, poured himself another, and placed an empty glass in front of Declan. Gulping the last of his bottle, Declan set it down with a clatter and sighed when Chris immediately filled his glass.
“Did something happen in Ireland?”
Declan locked his back teeth against the image of laughing, sapphire eyes and a perfect smile currently torturing his brain. He closed his eyes and rubbed his head.
“Are you going to be sick?”
“No.” The weight of what he’d lost sank onto his chest, the pressure unbearable. “Is it your dad? I know he was pissed about you going to Dublin,” Chris said carefully.
Declan snorted but shook his head.
“Did Seamus’s problem not work out?”
Declan didn’t share with either Chris or his siblings exactly what his brother had done before he left. He wanted to talk to Rose. He could tell her anything.
But he couldn’t.
She was gone.
He was alone.
“Dec?” Chris hesitated. “I get that you don’t like talking about your family in Ireland, but… I’m going to be honest…. You look awful. Literally the worst I’ve ever seen you.” He took a breath. “We’ve known each other for a long time. I understand more than most about the pressures of your life.”
Declan squinted at his friend through blurry eyes. Chris was right. Because of Dr. Keller’s relationship with David Bloom, and their own friendship, Chris had a front row seat to the toxic dysfunction of the Bloom family.