It's About Time (Blossom Peak #4)(9)

“Couch,” I drag out, muttering against the cushions beneath my face. Pressing a kiss to the fabric beneath me, I turn my face to find Dilynne staring down at me, shaking her head.

“Having a love affair with your couch now?”

“Yes. This couch has never let me down, unlike some people.”

“No need to be evasive, Elliot. I think we both know who you’re talking about.” She moves down to my feet, untying my shoes and setting them by the door where I usually take them off. “I’m gonna get you some water and aspirin.”

“That sounds horrible. You should get me a beer instead.”

“I think you’ve had enough beer for the night,” she replies as she heads toward my kitchen.

“If you’re not going to get me a beer, then why the fuck are you here, Dilynne? I don’t need your help…”

And that’s the last thing I remember before the entire world turns black.

The next thing I know, piercing light shocks me from my sleep. When I pop one eye open, I see Dilynne sitting in the chair opposite the couch, scrolling on her phone. “Dilynne?”

“Good. You’re alive,” she says before standing and walking over to me.

I let out a groan as the pounding in my head begins. “What the hell are you doing here?” Reaching up, I pinch the bridge of my nose as the splitting headache grows exponentially.

“Yeah, you passed out before I could give you some aspirin to take the edge off. Sadly, I don’t think it would have helped with the amount of alcohol you consumed.”

“ Good thing my drinking isn’t your problem, huh?”

“You’re right. But you became a problem last night and I’m the one who volunteered to deal with your grumpy ass. Lucky me,” she mutters.

I glare up at her. “What happened?”

Her brows lift. “You don’t remember?”

“No…”

“You got wasted at Fletcher’s going away party and volunteered to do a dirty dance for him. Your shirt was halfway off before Rhonan stepped in.”

Groaning, I roll over and cover my face with my hand. “Jesus.”

“Yup. Definitely wasn’t your finest moment.”

“Is Fletcher…”

“Pissed?” she finishes for me. “Not as much as concerned.”

“Fuck. I just couldn’t stand watching everyone be happy,” I say, surprising even myself with my honesty.

Luckily, Dilynne just nods. “Yup. Been there.”

I peer up at her. “Really? When?”

She darts her gaze from me and clears her throat. “Doesn’t matter. Look, you should probably hop your sorry ass in the shower. I can smell the alcohol coming out of your pores, and there’s a pizza warming in the oven. Greasy food always helps with the hangover.”

“Why don’t you leave me the fuck alone, Dilynne?” My words are harsh, but the last thing I want to deal with right now is this woman in my house when I feel like shit. “I don’t need your help today, and I sure as fuck didn’t need it the day you took me to the junkyard, all right?”

“So you’ve told me.” Moving away from me, she grabs her keys from the coffee table and heads toward the front door. “Take someth ing now and drink lots of water, and maybe lay off the booze for a while, all right?”

I don’t get a chance to respond because in the next breath, she’s gone. And as I sit up on the couch and finally feel gravity again, so does my stomach, making me race to the bathroom to deal with the consequences of my actions in more ways than one.





Chapter 4





Dilynne



Time for Some Tough Love



Three Months After the Wedding


Standing on the front porch of Elliot’s house, I groan when I hear angry music blaring from inside. Through the window, I see him pacing his living room with a bottle in his hand. Jack Daniels, if I had to guess.

It’s been three months since Tori walked out on their wedding, and Elliot doesn’t seem to be getting any better. His drinking has only gotten worse, and his surly attitude is pissing me off more than usual.

It’s time for some tough love. Heavy on the tough—because Elliot and love don’t belong in the same s entence.

I pound on the door, hoping it will cut through the screaming rock music, but no such luck. After two more attempts, I twist the doorknob and find it unlocked, so I step inside.

Elliot is standing with his back to me, tipping the bottle up to his mouth.

“If you don’t turn that shit down, someone is going to call the sheriff and you’ll have to deal with Rhonan instead of me!” I shout over the music.

Elliot twists around slowly, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with red, glaring at me when his gaze meets mine. “What the fuck do you want?”

I hold up the bags of food from Blossom Brews. “Nice to see you too.”

He takes another swig of booze and then moves to the stereo, turning the volume down low enough that my ears don’t ring anymore. “I thought I told you to stop with the food deliveries.”

Shrugging, I move toward his kitchen island to deposit the bags onto the marble counter tops. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”