Time For Us: A Second Chance, Small Town Romance (Sun River Book 2) by L.M. Halloran

Author:L.M. Halloran [Halloran, L.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-18T00:00:00+00:00

24

“Mom, drink some water, please.”

She bats at my hand. “I don’t want it. Stop badgering me.”

Swallowing a sigh, I set the glass on the coffee table and collapse into the chair opposite the couch where my mom lies with an arm over her head. Pretty sure she’s wearing the same thing she wore yesterday—a floral print pajama set and a silk robe with wine stains on the lapels.

It’s three in the afternoon on Saturday and she’s drunk. She was drunk yesterday, too, when I drove straight from Wild Lake to bring her dinner. I should have stayed the night, but she’d seemed okay when I left, having finished most of the food. Looking at her sallow face and frail limbs now, I wonder if she slept at all. If she’s eaten anything today besides the ice cubes in her wine. If she gives a shit at all about the fact she’s killing herself.

The buzzing of my phone snaps me from a downward spiral. When I see the caller ID, I stand and head upstairs to my old bedroom, answering as I open the door.

“Michelle.”

“Hey, big brother, sorry I didn’t get back to you last night.” She pauses. “Did the blood work results come in?”

I sit heavily on my old twin bed, hunching forward like I can protect myself from the memories—and pain—that happened within these walls. Like I can protect myself, too, from the words I have to speak and everything they mean.

“Yeah, they did. Yesterday afternoon.”

Right after Celeste left Wild Lake, which in retrospect was either the worst or best timing possible. I wince as I remember the mess I made in the trailer as I vented my frustration on the folding table and chair.

From Michelle’s silence, she knows—just as I did—what it means when a doctor calls within twenty-four hours of a test. Bad news.

“And?” she finally whispers.

“Not that it’s a surprise, but she has all the indicators of chronic alcohol abuse.” I clear my throat, allowing myself one more second before telling her the worst of it. “They’ll need to biopsy her liver to confirm, but based on her symptoms and the blood test, she has second stage liver disease.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” she demands.

I summon the voice of the doctor on the phone yesterday, his words precise, his tone surprisingly gentle. “Fatty liver is usually the first sign of long-term alcohol abuse. She’s past that, with the beginnings of alcoholic hepatitis. If she keeps drinking, she’ll get cirrhosis of the liver, which is irreversible and generally fatal.”

It’s also what killed our father.

My chest squeezes at the sound of my sister’s soft sob. “Why?” she whispers. “Why is she doing this?”

“I don’t think she has much of a choice at this point,” I murmur, closing my burning eyes. “She’s physically and mentally addicted. Her only chance to undo the damage is to stop drinking permanently and as soon as possible. And I don’t think she can do it alone.”

“How do we get her to rehab, though? An intervention? She’d laugh us out of the room.

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