Page 136 of Pretender

“Yes, I took my brother on a trip for a week.”

“Oh.”

“Come on, up you pop.”

I let Elliott push me up. I’m a sack of potatoes and it feels kind of okay. Maybe Elliott can just carry me around everywhere.

“Did I tell you my dad was an arsehole?” I ask, dragging the word out, making it loud into my glass. “Arse. Hooole,” I repeat, before downing the last of my whiskey, leaning back against the side of the chair where Elliott’s propped me up.

“Never heard that version of it, no. Mark made him sound like a wonderful dad.”

“He was.” I lean over to the side table and grab the bottle, there’s only a little left. Did I have all that? No. I feel fine. I’m fine.

“Should we get you home, Aiden?” Elliott tries to take the bottle from me, but I pull it back. He knows not to argue.

“My home is not my home.”

“What happened with Linnea?”

“How’d’you guess that?”

“I can only imagine it’s got to do with her. She was part of the reason you were drunk last time too, if I recall correctly.”

I blink at him, filling my glass up. That’s a lot. Ah, well. I have no plans. Not until some day on the calendar when Mum is getting married and Linnea is meant to be there but I don’t know if she will.

“Nah.”

“Yeah,” Elliott sighs, sitting down next to me. “Can I have a sip? That’s too full.”

I nod, sloshing my drink, and he takes it from me before I spill it all.

“You’d overheard her and Henry fighting, and you were struggling with how to deal with it. ‘As a client,’ you kept saying. I guess I understand it better in hindsight. You don’t remember?”

“I remember the fight.”

The fight. I look at Elliott.

“You have blue eyes,” I tell him. “Linnea has blue eyes…” I stare at him. “She was scared of me. I just wanted to cuddle her arms the way she likes me to.”

There’s a stinging heat behind my eyes, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. Did I do what Henry did to her? I told her to calm down. That she was exaggerating. Why did I do that? Why did I try to make it into nothing when it was something?

“What are you mumbling about, Aiden? Why did you do what?”

“Linnea. I was shit.”

“I don’t follow. Did you say or do something wrong?” Elliott asks, his eyes right there. Stupid, painfully blue eyes.

“I laugh everything off.”

“You don’t like addressing pain, I’ve noticed. I’m sensing now… Is this why you avoid drinking? You can’t control your emotions when you drink.”

My eyes find my friend again. He’s noticed it? I haven’t ever considered that. I just thought I had a drink-and-punch-holes problem.

“You should probably talk to someone, Aiden.”

“I hurt her.”

“You what?”