The opening of his front door and loud voices in his hallway alerted him of the fact that the whole cavalry had arrived. He should’ve known they would show up for an intervention. They finally had enough of his shit. He couldn’t blame them. It was what he would’ve done, anyway.
“B. It’s been a full 24 hours since she’s gone. Go get your arse in the shower,” Donovan said as he ripped the comforter from his stinking body.
“What time is it?” he groaned.
“Time to get your ugly white arse out of our sight, bro.” Ronan snickered.
Right. He was still naked. He didn’t bother to put clothes on when he’d grabbed a bottle of the finest whiskey from the kitchen to drown his sorrows. Pops would get on his case about the whiskey the minute he noticed it missing.
Brennan had gone home to an empty bed when Errin had fled the scene. He’d loaded her suitcases in Kayla’s trunk, kissed Errin again for good measure, and waved goodbye like some kind of idiot. He couldn’t find one good reason not to resort to drinking.
He’d reached out to her to see if she’d arrived at Conner’s all right, and she’d texted, “Yes. Sleep tight.”
Well, that was like a right hook to the chin. Couldn’t she relay something more? No, she gave him three words. ‘Yes’, ‘Sleep’ and ‘Tight’.Fuck this shit. He wanted more. So much more. He yearned for something like, ‘I miss you already’.
He shook his head, knowing that wasn’t Errin. She needed to keep her distance. He got it, but at the same time he didn’t get it.
“Fuck off,” he muttered to his annoying brother, who kept on goading him.
“Go on, Bren. And if you ask nicely, I’ll even shave that hairy arse for you.” Ronan laughed.
“Leave me alone. Damn. My head hurts,” he said, taking the pillow from his head.
Declan walked into his line of sight and crouched next to his bed. His worry lined face filled his vision and guilt ate at Brennan.
“I’m sorry for not answering any of you. I’ll get my arse up and my shit together. Just… give me a minute.”
“Fuck. I can’t take this any longer. Anyone got a tissue?” Ronan said.
“Nobody cares if you cry, motherfucker. Shut yer face,” Duncan said, making Brennan cringe as his head pounded in his skull.
“No, it’s not for my face. It’s for the back of his head. He’s bleeding,” Ro said as he walked closer and shuffled some hair on Brennan’s head, making him cry out in pain.
“How in the hell did that happen?” Donovan said.
“Dunno…” Brennan groaned.
“This has got to be the worst I’ve ever seen ye. Fuck. Okay, Dec, grab some wet and dry towels. Ro, go see in the kitchen if there’s a first aid kit somewhere,” Don said.
“Sink…” he mumbled.
“What?” Donovan said.
“Under the sink,” Brennan said.
“Right,” Don said. “Okay, wait a minute before you move a muscle. We’ll see to this cut. It doesn’t look like it needs stitches, but we must make sure before you get out of bed.”
“Geez. Just let me get up and—” he started before Ronan reentered the room and clanged the first aid box on his bedside table, making Brennan close his eyes and voice some profanities.
Declan walked over and cleaned the cut in the back of his head. The wet towel gave him a slight chill, but he tried to ignore it.
“Okay, most of it was dried up blood. You probably bled so much because you’ve downed a bottle of whiskey, which made your blood so thin you bled like a stuck pig,” Dec said.
“Okay, G.I. Joe. Thank you for your crime scene analysis,” Ronan snickered.
“Shut the fuck up,” Dec said.
“Can all of you shut the fuck up? My head hurts,” Brennan groaned.