She belched out a tiny burp. “Too much, apparently.”
Apparently.
“Shelly was really mad about that. Told me not to drink any more.”
“Well, it’s not safe,” I reminded her.
“No, it wasn’t that. Not my safety she was worried about.”
Riddles again.
“Have you talked to Lynn?” I asked. I wanted to plead with her to tell me something, anything.
“Have you talked to Lynn?” she parroted, changing the pitch of her voice. “Is that all you think about? Lynn, Lynn, Lynn.”
“Yes.” Might as well be truthful. She was all I thought about. She was gone, damn it. “How did you end up hanging out with Shelly?” I tried to sound casual, but my question was anything but.
She shrugged. “She contacted me. Said we needed to talk. We talked.” Her eyes avoided mine.
“About what?”
She rolled her eyes. “About Lynn. What else?”
“Did she tell you anything important?” I set her backpack, which I’d taken from the car where she’d forgotten it, on the floor.
“No.” She sighed. “I did try, but she wouldn’t tell me anything. She just assured me Lynn’s fine. She’s going through some stuff and needs some time.” She finally looked up at me. “Lynn’s fine. Shelly did tell me Lynn’s fine.”
The constant vise that had been squeezing my heart eased a little.
“Shelly put a hurting on that guy at the bar. I was actually worried for a minute.” She suddenly looked sober. Completely sober.
“Ash?” I asked.
She nodded. “Still me.” She smiled a self-deprecating smile.
“You should probably take a shower. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”
She dragged one finger down the wall as she headed toward the guest bedroom. “Too drunk,” she said. “Can’t.”
I motioned toward her. “Come on,” I said, waving her in my direction. “I’ll help you.”
She hopped and squealed. “You mean it?”
“Yes.” I tried not to grin. “Come on.”
She started to sing, “You’re gonna wash me because you love me.”
“Quit playing around and come on.”
She stumbled as she walked into my bedroom.
“Why were you drinking tonight?” I asked as I walked into the bathroom and turned on the water. I started to take my clothes off, because I knew she was going to get me wet.
She shook her head. “Sometimes, it’s a struggle.” She kicked off her shoes, making them fly across the room, and lifted her arms to pull her shirt over her head, but got stuck. I went to help her, lifting her arms and peeling her shirt off like she was a baby. She unhooked her bra and shrugged out of it.
“What’s a struggle?” I asked as I helped her step out of her pants and panties. She lifted her foot so I could pull off her socks.
“Staying alive,” she said candidly. “Sometimes it’s hard. Life can be exhausting.”