Well, what I’d said was partially true.
I had no idea why she’d been mostly single since I’d known her. Most guys would overlook the drinking. Hell, I could overlook it if I…if I didn’t care about her. And that was the whole thing. I cared about her. A lot.
And I had hurt her.
What I’d said needed to be said, but that hadn’t been the right way to go about it. Clenching the counter, I watched what was left of the foam from the beer bubble its way down the drain. I wasn’t sure an apology was going to be enough.
“It can’t be that bad.”
I’d forgotten that Kyler was even in the room. “Oh, it was.”
“She was drunk and she…she has some issues, Tanner.”
“With anxiety?” I pushed off the counter, ready to defend the whole “issues” statement. “A lot of people have problems with that. It’s not that uncommon.”
He raised his hands. “I’m not saying it’s bad that she does or anything like that, but you’ve got to understand, that probably had some kind of influence on her reaction. You probably weren’t the only cause of what just happened.”
“Maybe,” I muttered. “But man, just trust me on this. I shouldn’t have said what I did. Not the way I said it.”
Kyler stared at me a moment. “Okay. So now I’m going to get all up in your business at the most inopportune time possible.”
I raised my brows.
“It’s obvious that you really care about her. Something went down between you two while we were camping.” He grinned in a way that kind of creeped me out. “This is great.”
I frowned. “I don’t think this is a good thing right at this moment.”
“No. It is. Well, after you apologize for being a general shithead and Andrea…well, when she feels better.” He tilted his head to the side, studying me. “It doesn’t bother you that she has anxiety issues?”
My frowned deepened. “No. Why would it?”
“Some people…well, I’m gonna be real. There are people out there who are assholes and don’t understand something like that. They judge.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m not one of them.”
Kyler nodded and then asked, “What about the drinking?”
And that was the million-dollar question. I wanted to be able to overlook the drinking, because underneath it all, there was a damn-fine woman there. Andrea was smart and she was funny. She was kind and she was beautiful. And she was a damn firecracker in and out of bed, but the drinking…
The girl had a problem, even if she didn’t want to acknowledge it.
I shook my head, unable to answer that…and damn, that was probably answer enough. Maybe for a while I could ignore the drinking, but long-term? Yeah, I couldn’t deal with that. Disappointment rushed me. I felt like something cherished had just been snatched away from me.
“What got her so pissed off at you?”
Part of me didn’t want to talk about it, but guilt was a noxious acid in my stomach. “You were right. Things did change between Andrea and me while you guys were gone—hell, before you guys left. It got heated—in a good way. But when you guys came back, she was so nervous and I…I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. I wanted to see how she played things out, but…”
But she hadn’t really acted any different toward me, and so neither had I. Last night, I’d planned on sneaking into her room, but I figured we probably should talk first and I knew talking would’ve been the last thing I would’ve done. So I’d decided to wait until today to talk to her. And then she’d played keep-away all day. If I could go back and change things, I would.
I never ended up elaborating on what I was saying to Kyler. I was done talking about shit and I spent the next couple of hours roaming the house until I finally got tired of waiting for Sydney to reappear. I headed upstairs, past my room. The door to Andrea’s was cracked open, and taking a deep breath, I eased it open.
I was relieved to see that neither of them was still on the floor. Andrea was asleep on her side, facing the door. Curled inward, her face was no longer flushed but her hair appeared damp. Her pale lips were parted.
Sydney sat on the other side of her, leaning against the headboard and legs crossed at the ankles. She glanced up from her phone as I stepped into the room.
“Is she okay?” I whispered, not wanting to disturb Andrea.
Lowering her phone to her lap, Sydney nodded. “She’s out cold.” Her voice was low. “A truck could drive through this house and she’d sleep through it. It’s like that after… after these instances.”
My chest spasmed. “This…this happens a lot?”
She studied me for a moment as uncertainty flickered across her face. “As far as I know, not when she’s been drinking, but it’s happened a couple of times since I’ve known her.”
“She normally uses the meds then?”
Sydney nodded again. “It’s not her fault. Her brain… Well, it’s like a faulty house alarm, you know? Your brain is wired to alert you to danger. Gets the adrenaline going, all of that, but with people who have anxiety attacks, the brain isn’t working correctly. It’s like a house alarm going off when no one is breaking into the house. Sometimes something triggers it—something big. Other times, it can be an issue that would be minor for the rest of us.”
“I didn’t think it was her fault,” I whispered. “I just didn’t know. I had no idea. Andrea seems so…”
“You know, usually the people who smile the most and laugh the loudest are the ones who…suffer the most,” she said quietly as she glanced down at Andrea and sighed wearily. “I knew…I knew the drinking was bad, especially with the anxiety. I’ve talked to her about it, you know? But I never really pushed her on it, and I…I should’ve. I know better. It’s just hard to see everything clearly when it’s someone you care about.”
Damn, that was… All of this was painful to hear. For a moment, I couldn’t move. All I could do was stare at Andrea. The bright red curls were spread out behind her like flames. Her hands were folded under her chin, against her chest. I had no idea how she’d gotten herself in that tiny ball, but she looked much smaller, much younger.
“I messed up,” I said out loud, to no one in particular.
A heartbeat passed and Sydney said, “So did she. So did all of us.”
Chapter 18
Andrea
It was the butt-crack of dawn Saturday morning when I found myself wide awake with a pounding headache and a really vile taste in the back of my throat. Throwing off a quilt I didn’t remember grabbing, I sat up and the room did this really weird funhouse thing. I made it to the bathroom with just seconds to spare, enough time to turn on the shower to drown out the sounds I made when I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet.
Pain shuttled up and down my ribs by the time I finished, and I sat there for a minute, clean water in the basin of the toilet and steam filling the bathroom, replaying messy images from the night before, over and over like I was stuck in some kind of twisted instant replay of random, blurry flashes that didn’t make a lot of sense.
Last night…I’d gotten plastered and not only made a complete idiot out of myself, I’d had an anxiety attack. My cheeks burned as I vaguely remembered Tanner standing in the room, me screaming at him…not being able to breathe.
How in the world would I ever face Tanner again?
I dragged myself to my feet and, after stripping down, I stepped under the warm spray. It was a nice shower—multiple body jets and an overhead rain showerhead. I liked to think the drenching and pounding washed away all the lingering alcohol seeping out of my pores.
Brushing my teeth twice, I practically made love to the mouthwash before I pulled on a lightweight maxi dress and quietly sneaked downstairs. It was too early for anyone else to be up and even though I wanted—needed—coffee and its wonderful caffeine, I didn’t want the aroma to turn the house into a Folgers coffee commercial. So I settled for iced tea that I took outside.