I tried to fight against the whiskey fog that was making it all difficult to process. I was angry with myself all over again.
“You should clean yourself up, man,” Quinn said, disgusted. “She would be devastated to see you like this.” He made his way to a laundry basket of clean clothing across the room.
“She can’t hate me any more than she already does.”
Quinn shoved a few of Avery’s shirts into the duffel bag. “Not as much as you hate yourself, I’m guessing.”
“Deep down, Avery knows I wouldn’t cheat on her. She’s just … having a hard time.”
“I hate to say it, brother, but all signs point to a different conclusion. She might be having ‘a hard time,’ but women without a head injury have suspected worse with less evidence.”
“She is having a hard time.”
“And you’re not helping her by making excuses. She doesn’t need you defending her mental state to the world. She needs medication, Josh.”
“I’m not defending her. She hasn’t done anything wrong,” I snapped.
Quinn hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know she hasn’t, Josh. But this—” he waved his hands at the overturned tables and empty beer bottles “—isn’t good for her.”
“I know. I’ll fix it.” I sank down on the edge of my bed, my head hanging as my entire world crumbled around me. “If I just knew how.” My voice was barely a whisper as I thought back to Kayla. I couldn’t help her either.
Quinn’s stern expression softened. “You sober the hell up, first. She’s not going to listen to a raging drunk.”
I nodded.
“Give her some time, and when she’s ready, you go to her. Explain about Hope. Then you need to get her an appointment with a neurologist.”
“She won’t. She’s scared of what they’ll say.” I let my lashes fall closed, sending the tears that pricked my eyes cascading down.
“She’s scared because she doesn’t understand what’s going on with her health, and now her marriage is falling apart. She might be mad as hell, but she needs you.”
I nodded, swallowing back the lump in my throat.
“I’m gonna … I’m gonna shower and sober up. Make a pot of coffee, would ya?” I looked up at Quinn, who was now standing in front of me with the bag hanging at his side.
“Sleep it off. She isn’t going anywhere.” He cupped my shoulder in his hand and then walked away, disappearing out the bedroom door. A few seconds later the apartment door slammed closed, and I fell back on the mattress, letting my sadness take over.
Despite my drunken stupor, it was almost impossible to sleep. I drifted in and out of consciousness, dreaming of Avery coming home and having nightmares that she never would.
When the sun finally cast shadows on the walls, I grabbed my phone. The screen read 7:04 a.m. It wasn’t too early to head over to Quinn’s. Avery would be awake, and hopefully she’d missed me, too.
I showered, shaved, and brushed my teeth, feeling the way I had before our first date. I looked for the shirt she loved and spritzed on the cologne she always said made her unable to keep her hands off me. If I was going to win her back, I’d need all the help I could get.
I slipped on my jeans and shoes, grabbed my wallet, phone, and keys, and headed for the door. I swung it open, feeling mildly confident. If Quinn believed me, Avery could, too.
My keys dropped from my hands when I recognized the woman standing in the hallway, puffy and red-faced from climbing the stairs.
“Avery,” I breathed.
My purse slipped when I snatched it from the kitchen counter and it toppled to the floor. I crouched, picking up sticks of gum and pennies, groaning when it was time to push back up to my feet.
“Let me help,” Josh said.
“I’ve got it,” I growled.
“Can we talk?”
“I just came back for my vitamins, and no, I don’t have time. I picked up a shift today.”
“Picked up a shift? Avery, your anxiety is through the roof. Did Deb check your blood pressure this morning?”