Sadie (18+)

Chapter 15

The soft coo of a mourning dove woke me. I wiped the saliva from my mouth, disgusted. My tongue felt heavy and dry. The milky morning light filtering through the windows indicated a glimmering dawn.

I sat up, feeling dirty, repulsive, ashamed. I had certainly opened a can of worms last night—would Tony be a problem now?

I maneuvered to the kitchen sink and held my mouth under the faucet, gulping down the tap water like a maniac. A presence, although quiet, hovered behind me—I paused, the cool water pouring over my mouth, listening.

"Up early again?" his tone sounded strange, almost demeaning, which was completely unfamiliar to me.

I turned off the sink and swung around, facing Vincent. His stubble was already growing in again, a look I quite liked.

I choked out a yes, but his raised eyebrow indicated that he knew I was full of shit.

"I know you've been drinking," he said, tilting his head to the side. "Your hair's a mess and you look like you haven't slept."

"I—"

"And your bottle of whiskey was on the floor in the hallway," he interrupted. "You're lucky Gina didn't find that. I got rid of it."

I cursed, then rubbed my eyes until my vision was no longer blurry from sleep. That explains his tone. I felt my cheeks heating up in response to Vincent's observations.

"I'll make you some coffee," he said. "Sit. I want to talk to you."

I obliged, waddling over to the dining table and brushing my fingers through my knotty hair. Was he going to ask me to go home? Surely he wouldn't go that far, but he didn't exactly sound pleased.

I couldn't blame him—I was a horrible guest, a horrible person. This family didn't deserve me. This trip proved that, of course. I should have never started this with Vincent, and now I had to worry about Tony, too. Julia would kill me, and not to mention poor, innocent Gina who has been my sweet, second mother for so many years.

He set a mug of coffee in front of me, a plume of steam swirling and dancing. I watched it, afraid to look at the man who had just taken a seat beside me. I knew I was about to be scolded, but how bad would it be? I inhaled a whiff of the hazelnut creamer, wishing I could dive into the steaming mug and disappear.

Was this what it felt like to be scolded by a father? I hardly remembered—my father had left so long ago, a life so far away now.

He let out a long sigh, his attractive face hardening. "This is my fault."

I arched a brow. "What?"

"The drinking, I mean," he clarified. "I allowed you and Julia to drink under my watch because I thought I could keep an eye on you that way, instead of doing it behind my back."

I didn't know what to say, so I waited for him to speak again, watching him bite the corner of his lip. This was a topic I hadn't expected, but I wasn't totally thrilled about it, either.

"I enabled you. I should have known this wasn't the right way, with my father being an alcoholic..."

"You can't compare that experience to two girls in high school," I countered, "and Julia's fine. She doesn't even drink that much, honestly."

"But I've known you for years," he said. "I still remember when you had braces and a unibrow."

"Um, let's not talk about the brow," I said, waving the topic away, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

The corner of his mouth lifted, but it was a sad sort of smile, a fleeting one. "Sorry. You're a good kid, Sadie. I should have—"

"I'm not a kid," I said. "I'm eighteen. You're not responsible for me, so stop acting like you are."