Pieces of Me by Tich Brewster

Author:Tich Brewster [Brewster, Tich]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tich Brewster
Published: 2018-09-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

Makayla

The creak of the backdoor echoes in the all-too-silent house and I hold my breath as I listen. Most likely it’s just Thaddeus and not some burglar breaking and entering.

At least I’m hoping that is the case, otherwise we are royally screwed.

Keys jingle, hit the floor, then jingle again before landing on the hallway table. Yep, it’s Thaddeus and he is being clumsy which means he is probably drunk as a skunk. Judging by how slowly he is walking, I’m guessing he is trying to tiptoe but failing miserably because his thick boots thud heavily on the hardwood floor with each step he takes.

Peering over Eryc’s sleeping form, I watch my brother fumble with his boots.

Lifting his foot, he tries to untie the laces but stumbles, hops a few steps, and falls into the wall. Cursing and swaying, he walks the two feet to the staircase and sits, or rather falls, onto the bottom step.

Once he gains his balance, he sets to work on untying his boots. It is clear that the feat isn’t easy for him and a few more whispered curse words tumble out of his mouth.

When he stands, his body sways and he takes a wobbly step up the stairs, clutching the banister like a cane. Before he can manage to get himself up one more stair, I call out to him.

“Thad?” I try to keep my voice low as to not wake Eryc.

Whipping his head around, he looks toward the living room. He must be having difficulty seeing in the dark because he cups his hands around his eyes like he is looking through a window. “Makayla?”

“I’m in the living room, Thad, on the floor.” Eryc shifts but soft snores continue to fall from his lips. I lower my voice so I don’t disturb him further. “I was worried about you. Where were you?”

Thaddeus squats next to me. “Don’t worry about me. I’m good.”

I hate when he behaves this way. Of course, I’m going to worry about him, he is my brother, my twin. He must know that I can feel his pain. We are linked like only twins can be. I just wish he would trust me enough to let me help him. “Thad, seriously?”

His lips form a hard, tight line. “Leave me be, Makayla.” Then, as if to soften the blow of his harsh words, he touches my cheek and smiles. “Don’t worry about me. You really should rest, you have to take care of yourself.”

My brother is so irritating.

I don’t want to rest because I am worried that he is drinking himself into an early grave. “I can’t rest when you’re out there giving yourself alcohol poisoning and killing your liver.”

A puff of air blows from his mouth and the sour scent of too much whiskey hits my nostrils, burning the sensitive skin there.

Seeing me scrunch my nose in distaste, he turns his head in what I can only assume is embarrassment. “Makayla,” his eyes meet mine again, “you’re not my mother.”

I take his hand and squeeze.

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