"Iris…" Her dark eyes streak with regret. "I've seen her at NA."
No. There's no fucking way that's true. "Bullshit."
"She got up. Told her story. It had a lot of ugly parts. It was brave and I… I shouldn't have said this." Bree presses her lips together. "Even if you're my brother. She… I… shit." She takes a step backward. "I love you."
"Yeah."
"Walker?" Her voice is sincere. "Are you okay?"
Every single molecule of her expression is sincere.
"You saw my girlfriend at NA?"
She nods. "I wish I was lying. Really. You deserve a good thing. But, whatever you want to believe, your girlfriend is an addict."
No.
There's no way.
She's full of shit.
Even if she sounds really fucking honest.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Walker
The party is quiet. Thank fuck Dean pulled the curtains down, because everyone is staring at me. Even the people who don't know Bree. And the ones who have no idea she's an addict.
Dean shoots me a look. You okay?
I nod even though I'm not.
This is fucking bullshit.
There's no way Iris would keep that a secret.
There's no fucking way.
I slide the card into my back pocket. I go straight to the bar. Fill a plastic cup with ice and whiskey.
It's good shit. Goes down smooth. Sands the edges off my thoughts.
There are soft steps behind me. The click-clop of women's shoes. Iris's steps. She's wearing those wedges she can't walk in.
Fuck, it's adorable, the way she stumbles. And those things make her the perfect height to pin her to the wall.
But she…
I…
This doesn't make sense.
I finish my glass. It's too much, too fast. But I don't care. I need the buzz pushing my thoughts away.
Her fingers skim my shoulder. "Is your sister okay?"
"Yeah." I refill my glass. Take another swig.
"Are you?" Her voice gets soft.
Is that bullshit too?
Did she mean anything she told me?
My stomach twists as I take another sip. The whiskey fails to help. I can't even taste it.
"Walker…"
"Yeah?"
"What happened?" She moves closer. "Is she using again?"
"No." I take another sip. Turn to face Iris.
Her blue eyes fix on mine.
They're sweet. Sincere.
But are they?
Has she been lying to me all this time?
"She's good. Two months sober." My throat burns, but I take another swig anyway.
Confusion fills Iris's eyes. "Something about that upset you?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah?" She smooths her dress. Stares at her purple nails.
"She said some fucked-up shit."
Her lips press together. Her eyes fill with dread.
She knows what I'm going to say.
She knows she's found out.
How the fuck does she know?
How the fuck does everyone else know everything?
A deep breath does nothing to break up the tension in my shoulders. "Bree said she saw you at NA."
"Oh."
"I told her that's bullshit." Please, Iris, please tell me it's bullshit. "You'd have told me if you were an addict."
Her eyes turn down. "I…"
"What the fuck, Iris?"
"I'm sorry." She moves closer. Reaches for my wrist.
I pull my arm to my side.
"It was casual. It was none of your business."
Maybe. It feels hollow. It feels like more bullshit.
"You said the past was the past. You said it didn't matter. That I couldn't tell you anything that would change things." Energy drains from her voice with every word. "Did you mean it?"
I did.
But I…
This…
Fuck, this doesn't make any sense.
She wipes a tear from her eye. "I should have told you. I know that. But you'd have left."
"No." My voice rises. It's too fucking loud. I'm causing a scene.
But it's my birthday.
I can cause a fucking scene if I want.
"Yeah, you would have. That doesn't make it right, but… I… I guess I wanted to believe you." She struggles through her words. "To believe it was possible you might love me anyway."
My eyes find hers.
Those same beautiful blue eyes.
Filled with that same hurt. Usually, I'm desperate to destroy it.
But now?
Fuck, my head hurts.
Iris takes a step backward. "I'm sorry. I should have told you."
I try to find words, but they're too ugly. Too raw.
What the fuck can I say?
I did mean it, that the past didn't matter.
It didn't.
But it does.
I'm a fucking liar.
As bad as she is.
No, worse.
But that doesn't change shit.
I still can't stomach this.
I still—
I swallow the last drop of my drink. It still fails to offer clarity.
I don't know much. But I do know this. "You should go."
Her heart breaks. Fuck, I can see it all over her face.
I still hate her pain.
But I still can't do this.
This still doesn't make any sense.
Her eyes go to the floor.
Without a word, she turns, and moves to the door.
It swings shut behind her.
Everyone looks at me.
Fuck that. I refill my drink.
Dean steps forward. He tries to grab the cup. Knocks it over instead. "You're not going after her?"
I shake my head.
I don't see how it can be anything else.
I don't…
This doesn't make any sense.
"What the fuck, Walker? You're crazy about her." He scratches his head. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"You heard everything. You know the answer."
"She's an addict. So what?" Something fills his eyes. Guilt.
"You knew?"
"Suspected."
"So that lecture about friends helping each other. That was bullshit?"
"You're being a fucking idiot."
"Fuck you." Fuck the entire world. Is there anyone I can trust not to keep shit from me?
"You're gonna regret this tomorrow."
"No. I'm gonna regret being sober tomorrow."
Someone steps forward. "I'll talk to her." That's Leighton. She sounds worried.
But it's a blur.
It's all a blur.
It's all bullshit.
It's all a fucked-up mess.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Iris
A tattoo shop in Venice Beach is a terrible idea.
There's nowhere to park.
I keep taking the bus here. Because Walker keeps driving me home. But now…
Where the hell is the bus stop anyway?
I pull my cell from my purse. Unlock the screen. A drop falls on it.
A tear.