The Victim (Book #1)

Chapter 60

"I didn't mean to drink! It just kind of happened!" I said. He stayed quiet and kept watching me, which made me keep speaking. It was like I couldn't stop until he spoke.

"I had a couple sips and then some more, and then one more drink at the end! Maybe two. It felt so good, Dom! I don't feel all stiff and tense like I always do. You should have one too!" I said, then cringed a little. "Okay, the guys told me you didn't like drinking, so maybe not..." I looked up at him nervously.

"Are you mad?" I finally asked.

He sighed and looked down, and my heart broke at the expression on his face. I knew what he was about to say was serious.

"I'm not mad, Maya." He replied. His face had just the slightest change to it, barely noticeable. He looked sad.

"Why are you sad?" I asked quietly. He let out a sigh and his hands clenched halfway into fists, before opening again.

"I'm older than 21, Maya. Have you ever seen me with a beer in my hands? Or any alcohol in the fridge? Have you ever seen Mom with any? Or any of the guys drinking?" he asked.

"No." I whispered, shaking my head curiously. I suddenly realized it was one of the ways I knew I could trust them, especially Dominic. For a big scary guy, he was remarkably in control of himself.

"Exactly." He replied.

"But why?" I asked, reaching out to grab his arm and then stopping as I wasn't sure if that was what I wanted to do or not. My actions came before I had even consciously chosen them. No wonder alcohol was dangerous.

"How about I tell you when you're not drunk?" he asked, as the tension finally cracked in the room and the regular warmth he had spilled out again. He looked up at me and his brown eyes showed no sign of sadness. It was clear that whatever he was going to say was something that he knew how to hide. I wished I could help, but I would give him time to be honest with me. To be fair, I hadn't told him everything about myself yet either.

"Okay. I'm still sorry." I murmured shyly.

"It's okay, really. Do you need me to carry you upstairs or do you think you can walk?" he asked with a gleam in his eye. He thought I couldn't do it.

"I can walk!" I argued, lifting my chin up and nearly falling off the couch as my balance shifted dramatically.

He put a hand to his forehead and shut his eyes as if upset, but then a touch of curiosity creased his face and he got animated.

"You don't even want a piggyback ride?" he asked in a voice that would be better suited for a toddler than a drunk teenager.

Without trying, his excitement lit mine and suddenly, it was all I wanted.

"Okay, okay, but don't tell anyone!" I said, jumping up on the couch and holding my arms out. I tried not to sway so he wouldn't know exactly how drunk I was but from the way he shook his head, he could tell. He twisted his body around and backed up, then began a countdown for me.

"Three, two, one!" he shouted in a whisper, and I leaped from the plush sofa to his back. He didn't even stumble but caught me easily and wrapped his arms around my ankles so I couldn't fall. I put my arms around his neck and my head on his shoulder, and he walked us up the stairs, without even turning off the light.

He deposited me in my bed and said goodnight but came back once to drop off a cold water bottle that he must have grabbed from his room.

"Drink this now. You won't regret it." He said, before leaving once more.

Before I could take a sip of water or even say goodnight, I fell back into the comfort of my blankets and fell right asleep.