Bitter Riff (The Muse Series) by Addison Carter

Author:Addison Carter [Carter, Addison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-19T05:00:00+00:00

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner?” Bea complained as I finished explaining everything to her.

“Because you’ve been through so much recently,” I sighed, feeling like a deflated balloon now that I had let my feelings out to the one person that I felt entirely safe with. “I didn’t want to-”

My sister barked a laugh, “You never change, do you, Bug? Can you please stop putting me first and start letting me be there for you.”

I dropped my phone onto my bed, tapping the speakerphone button and flopping back against the plump pillows. “I’ll try.”

“No. No trying, just do.”

“Do or do not, there is no try,” I sighed, quoting my sisters favourite film to her.

Bea’s laughter rang out in my bedroom, and I closed my eyes as the first real happy smile I had managed in days lifted my lips.

“I wish I was there, Bug,” she complained.

“Me too,” I confessed, squeezing my eyes tight to hold back any more tears. “I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too. I’m so sorry, I wish we hadn’t agreed to add these extra dates. Also, we’re on in five minutes, shall I call you after?”

“No, I should be asleep by then,” I lied, biting my lip and hoping she couldn’t hear it in my tone.

“Bullshit.” She laughed, “We’ll be home next week, I promise. No more extensions, no more delays. When we get back, I’m all yours.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Love you, always and forever.”

“Always and forever.”

With that she was gone. It didn’t take long for the emptiness to creep back in, twisting its way inside of me. I slowly sat up, reached over to my bedside table, and pulled out the fresh bottle of vodka. Maybe I would be asleep by the time she finished her set, but it was far more likely that I would black out instead.

Blackouts were preferable anyway. Because tainted with vodka, my dreams didn’t twist into nightmares. They were messy, and uncomfortable, but they didn’t scare me.

Not like the memory of that morning did.

To everyone’s surprise, when mum and dad had died, I had handled it worse than my sister. She had always been the reckless, carefree one. But I had stolen that role in that first week. I refused to accept that they were no longer part of my world. I couldn’t smile, no real ones anyway. And I couldn’t get through a single day without tears streaming down my face, leaving my eyes red and puffy. My head constantly hurt, but it was nothing compared to the pain constricting my chest and clawing at my heart. That was when I had found the beauty in alcohol. I had never really been drunk before, only a little tipsy from alcopops at teenage beach parties. But by the end of that first week, I had found a new love, two new loves. Vodka and Tequila. Did they complement each other well? No. Did they make me feel like shit the following morning? Yes. But I didn’t care about that, because a hangover beat heartbreak any damn day.

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