Behind the impressive oak door, McGillicuddy’s was nothing but a dive bar; a few random patrons sat scattered about rickety wooden tables, and Leah’s heart rate kicked up a notch as she scanned the area, not seeing him.
Just as she was about to take out her phone and try to call him, she spotted him at the far end of the bar by himself. His head was down, his elbows resting on the bar as he spun a half-empty drink in his hand, and Leah frowned.
Why would they have served him again? The bartender took his keys, but gave him another drink?
Leah walked briskly toward the back of the bar, glaring at the bartender as she passed. When Danny heard her approaching, he lifted his head.
“Leah?”
She put her hands on her hips. “Danny.”
He blinked at her, stunned. “You’re here?”
Jesus, does he not even remember calling?
“Yes, I’m here. Come on. You’re going home,” she said, taking the drink from his hand and placing it on the bar. She realized a beat too late that perhaps it wasn’t the best idea; she had no idea what kind of drunk he was, whether he would get angry or belligerent if she took his drink away.
But instead he slunk out of the chair, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her against him. She brought her hands up to his biceps to brace herself, and he buried his face in her hair as he inhaled deeply. “You’re here,” he said again, and this time it sounded like a prayer.
Leah stood frozen for a moment before she closed her eyes.
He’s drunk. He has no idea what he’s doing. He doesn’t even remember calling you. Just get him home.
“Okay, come on,” she said, using her hands on his biceps to push him away gently. He held her firmly for another second before he relented, releasing his hold on her and taking a step backward. Leah slid her hand down his arm before timidly wrapping her hand around his wrist to keep him next to her while she leaned over the bar.
“Excuse me?” she said, and the bartender looked up. “Can I have his keys?”
The bartender shook his head, his expression never changing as he went back to drying glasses and stacking them. “I don’t have his keys.”
“Okay, well is Joe still working?”
The bartender chuckled as he slung the rag over his shoulder. “Sweetheart, either you’ve had a little too much to drink, or you’re at the wrong bar. There’s no Joe that works here.”
Leah stared blankly at him before she turned to Danny. “Where’s Joe? Where’s the guy who has your keys?”
He dropped his head, resting his forehead on her shoulder as he fisted the side of her sweatshirt. “The other bar,” he mumbled, and Leah closed her eyes, sighing heavily.
At least now she knew why he’d been served. This wasn’t the place that had cut him off. The only good news was that she knew he hadn’t driven to McGillicuddy’s, so the other bar had to be within drunken walking distance.
“Excuse me?” Leah said, leaning over the bar again, and the guy glanced up, a condescending expression on his face. “Is there another bar near here?”
“Across the street,” he said, as he turned to lift a bin of glasses from the floor.
“Thanks,” she said before she turned her attention back to Danny, sliding her fingers under his chin and lifting his head. He opened his eyes, smiling softly as he focused on her face.
“Come on. I need you to walk with me,” she said, wrapping her arm around his waist. She had no idea how she was going to hold him if he couldn’t walk, but as she took a step, thankfully he followed.
“Get home safe,” the bartender said as they passed, and she held her hand up behind her in acknowledgement. As they exited the bar, Leah’s eyes scanned the opposite street until she located a tiny pub called The Alley.
“There?” she asked, and Danny shrugged.
“Sure.”
Leah shook her head. “No, I’m not asking if you want to go there…ugh, just forget it. Let’s go,” she said, pulling him across the street.
As they entered the bar, the guy standing behind the tap turned to look at them. “You here for his keys?” he asked, and Leah nodded.
“Yeah, sorry about this,” she said.
“Don’t you apologize,” Danny murmured into her hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He pressed his lips to the crown of her head, and Leah squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach that the intimate gesture invoked.
He’s drunk. He’s drunk. He’s completely oblivious and drunk.
The bartender fished under the bar and came up with Danny’s keys, handing them to Leah.
“Thanks for looking out for him,” she said as she turned them toward the exit, and the guy nodded, giving her a flimsy salute.
Once they were back out on the street, Danny began leaning a bit more of his weight on her, and she wrapped both arms around his waist, trying to steady him. “Just a little farther, okay? My car is right there.”
“Where’s my car?” he asked, and Leah shook her head.
“You’re not driving tonight. Please don’t argue, okay? I have your keys. You can come back and get your car tomorrow.”
He leaned down, pressing his lips to the top of her head again. “I would never tell you no,” he said into her hair. “But you already know that, don’t you?”
She gritted her teeth together, trying to focus on getting them across the street. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Not his breath in her hair, or his hands on her body, or those words on his lips. Right foot, left foot.
She managed to help him into the passenger side, and as she walked around the back of the car, she saw him fall forward, burying his face in his hands as he rested on the dashboard. She stopped short, biting her lower lip as she looked in the back seat for a plastic bag, or a container of some type.
She hadn’t even thought about the possibility of him getting sick.
Leah rubbed her hand over her forehead before she slid into the driver’s seat and closed the door, and she placed her hand on his lower back, rubbing soothing circles.
“Do you feel sick?”
He shook his head.
“If you need me to pull over, just tell me, okay?”
He nodded.
She took a breath as she dropped her hand from his back. “Alright,” she said as she exhaled. “Where do you live?”
“In my apartment,” he mumbled into the dashboard.
“That’s helpful, Danny,” she sighed, looking around the car. She noticed the outline of his wallet through the back pocket of his pants, and Leah bit her lip before she reached over and slid her hand into his pocket, removing the wallet.
“Leah,” he groaned. “What are you doing to me?”
“I need your ID so I can get your address. Just shush, okay?”
She quickly typed his address into her phone’s GPS before folding his wallet and dropping it into her cup holder, and just as she pulled out onto the street, he fell back against the seat, his hands falling limply into his lap.
“A year. Can you believe it? How could it be a year?”
“What’s a year?” she asked softly.
He dragged his hands down his face before he exhaled heavily. “What the fuck was I thinking?” he yelled, causing Leah to jump, and she glanced over at him, blinking quickly.
“I wasn’t thinking, you know? I just…I wasn’t. But what was I supposed to do?” he said, his voice softening significantly. “What was I supposed to do?”
He covered his face with his hands as he rested his forehead on the dash again, and then he slammed his fist down on top of it. “What was I supposed to do?” he asked again, and Leah’s stomach twisted.
She had not the slightest idea what he was talking about, but there was so much pain in his voice that she felt like she might cry.
She knew what that kind of suffering felt like.
Leah took a tiny breath as she reached over and resumed rubbing circles on the small of his back.