I down the beer, the liquid cooling my insides, but offering only marginal relief. “Can I ask you something?” the brunette says.
I turn, like the blonde, she seems all excited, even though I’ve mostly ignored them. “Sure.”
“Are you Finn O’Brien?”
“That’s me,” I say.
Her friend does a little finger wave to the bartender, similar to what Sol did a few weeks back when she wanted me to follow her into my bedroom. The bartender doesn’t miss a beat and slams another Corona in front of me.
“Your brother’s Killian O’Brien, right?” she asks.
I nod because what else am I going to do?
“I knew it,” she says. “Me and Tiff have been following MMA for years―we were like, so thrilled when your brother won the championship.” Her smile goes from cheery to playful. “And when you came along. Let’s just say we were a little more thrilled.”
“Thanks.” I throw back the beer. Maybe it’s because I’ve been sober, or maybe it’s because I’ve been cutting weight, but this one has me feeling something. It’s not much. But it’s there.
She inches over. “Do you mind getting a picture with us?”
“Sure,” I mutter.
I slip my arms around them when they ask the bartender to take our picture. He drops a few shots close to the blonde before lifting their phones from the bar. The celebrity thing comes with the MMA status. I see it as part of the job, part of the image. It’s all good, and it doesn’t mean anything. So when they lean against me and press their palms against my pecs and abs, I let them. Just like I let them kiss my cheeks. But when the blonde flicks my earlobe with her tongue and tries to take a tug with her teeth, I step away.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I have a girlfriend,” I tell her.
She glances at her bestie like she’s disappointed, like she expected a lot more. But I mean what I say. My problem is, I’m starting to feel a little too good. I finish my beer as another is placed in front of me along with a shot. There’s another shot after that, making the beers that follow easy to take.
I’m not supposed to drink. I’m not supposed to be here. But I want to forget about everything―Sol’s mother, all I’ve seen, and what I’m feeling by not having Sol and her smile here with me.
Except after another few drinks I forget too much.
Like why I shouldn’t be here at the bar and with these women.
CHAPTER 24
Sol
I crank the heat in my car. God, it’s already April, but the nights are still freezing. At a light I call Wren.
“Hello?” she says.
“Wren, it’s Sol. I’m down in A.C., but I can’t reach Finn, and Sofia and Killian are tied up. Do you know where he is?”
“You’re just getting here now?” she asks.
It’s almost two in the morning. Like Finn, she probably expected me hours ago. I’m too embarrassed to admit I almost didn’t come. To be honest, I didn’t have any desire following the week I had.
The only institution my father’s insurance would cover was something out of a nightmare. I’ve spent every day visiting my mother, trying to protect her and shield her in the way I failed to do before she attempted suicide.
If it hadn’t been for our extended family rallying and offering to pay for her care at a private facility, that horrible institution is where she’d still be. I couldn’t stop crying when Teo gave me the news―so thankful they could help her, but so crushed that this is what’s become of her life. She doesn’t know me. As much as I need my mother, it’s like I’m nothing to her.
“I couldn’t leave until late,” I say, sparing Wren from the latest drama.
Obviously, she can hear in my voice that there’s more to my story. “You okay?” she asks, that underlying tone of concern softening her speech.
“Not really,” I answer.
I’m drained. I’m done. I can’t even pretend that I’m okay. It’s clear in my tone and in the way I carry myself. Emotionally and physically I’m beyond exhausted. Yet despite my need to sleep, I haven’t been able to. Not really. Just like I haven’t been able to be there for Finn.
Finn . . . Christ. I can’t believe I did this to him. As hard as life has been for him, finding my mother was the last thing he needed. Who am I kidding? I’m the last thing he needed. But he’s trying. It’s only fair that I try, too.
“Sorry,” Wren responds. “I’m at the hotel. Come here and we’ll figure things out.”
“You’re at the hotel?” I repeat.
She doesn’t miss the surprise in my voice. Wren loves club hopping and partying following the big fights. It’s odd for her to already back in her room.
“Yeah. Rough night,” she mutters. “How far away are you?”
I glance at the overhanging street signs. “I just turned on Renaissance Way.”
“Okay. I’ll come down. Just grab your stuff and have the valet park your car. We’ll register it under my room and I’ll help you find Finn.”