His anger only fueled my own.
I’d had it.
Dealing with these freaking men in my life.
These men and their addictions and their secrets.
I’d had it.
“How many pills have you swallowed since you got here? Hmm? Maybe you and my dad can have a competition to see who can finish a bottle faster!” I yelled at him, feeling my blood pressure rise and my breathing quicken.
“You’re still on that?” he said with his eyebrows raised. “I don’t have a fucking problem, Lexi. I told you I need those pills for pain. It’s real nice when your own wife doesn’t believe you. Thanks.”
I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Right, you don’t have a problem. And neither does Captain Bender over there in the living room. Nobody has a freaking problem except me!” I shouted so loudly my throat hurt.
He took a step forward. “Maybe you should think about what you just said—” he lowered his voice, “and ask yourself why you’re putting these labels on us.”
Okay.
That.
Was.
It.
I was done before.
But now I was really, really done.
“And maybe you should walk into that living room,” I pointed sharply with my arm out to the side, “and look into my dad’s face. Because that’s the mirror of where you—” I pointed sternly at him, “are going to end up. And I,” I slapped my hand to my chest, “am not going to stick around to watch you self-destruct, too.”
He stared at me, looking completely taken aback.
And hurt.
“Yeah, you’re plenty good at leaving. It’s what you do best.”
I shook my head.
He didn’t know what he was talking about.
I did.
“I know how this story ends, Trey. I’ve watched this same story play out for two decades. You say you’ll stay clean. You fall off the wagon. You disappear for days or weeks at a time. Fuck around on me while I’m stuck at home with a kid or six. And there’s crap-all I can do about it.”
I took a deep breath and continued. “Then you come back all charming and apologetic and I end up taking you back. Every single time. Until you make me sick. And I make you sicker. And one of us—or both of us—dies.”
His face contorted. “I’ve done nothing like that to you. Ever. And I never will.”
I bit my lip, trying to stop myself from talking. But, I couldn’t. “I know how this ends. You need to trust me on this.”
Then I walked around him and back into the living room. “No more cooking until you’re sober. Understand?” I asked my father. “Text me if you want something. Or order it. No driving. No cooking. I’ll be downstairs unpacking.”
I turned to do just that, but instead was met with a hard chest. “Oof.” I bumped into Trey and peered up at him.
“You go. I’ll stay here with your dad.”
His words didn’t quite register. “What?”