Rock Bottom (Dawson Family 6)

“I did the serious thing, Quinn, and you know how that turned out,” I say, words coming out harsher than I meant.

“But Wes—”

“Is Wes,” I stand, anger filling me. I’m not angry at Quinn. I know she has the best intentions. And I’m not angry at Kara, not anymore.

We wanted different things in life.

I wanted kids and a family.

She didn’t.

Even if she hadn’t cheated, we wouldn’t have worked out in the end. If we’d stayed together, we would have both been miserable.

“I don’t want anything serious,” I press, though even to me, it feels like a lie.

“Aren’t you getting tired of the one-night stands?” She wrinkles her nose in disgust as she talks.

“Not at all. Like you would know.”

“I’ve had a one-night stand,” she protests. “Then I got pregnant and married the guy but—”

“What?”

“Ohhh.” She winces again. “I forgot no one but Scarlet knows. Well, and Archer. And Jamie. And Marissa.”

“I don’t want to know. Wait. I do, so I can beat up Archer if I need to.”

Quinn dramatically rolls her eyes. “Just don’t mess with his hands. He needs them for surgery…and for me.”

“Gross.”

She laughs. “Now I feel like enlightening you.” She wiggles her eyebrows, knowing how much I hate this.

“And now it’s time for me to go to bed.”

“Just think about what I said?”

I give her a look. “About you and Archer? No fucking way.”

“Hah. Not funny, Dean. I’m worried about you. You’ve always been a relationship person. You’re happiest when you’re with someone.”

“I am with someone. Someone new every night.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. “Can I set you up with someone. Please?”

“As long as you make it clear that I want a no-strings night, then sure.”

“I love you.” She stands and looks upstairs. “Just…be honest with yourself. I miss the old Dean.”

“The old Dean was married to a cunt, as you delicately said. I’m happy now, and I see why Owen loved the single life for so long.”

“Yeah, because he was trying to make up for the fact that he was desperately in love with Charlie.”

“I’m not in love with anyone.” I let out a breath, knowing this can turn into an argument in a few seconds flat. Quinn can be dramatic, and I can rival her, if I’m being honest. “I appreciate your concern,” I say, hoping to close this out and actually go to bed. Quinn starts to say something else, but then Aiden cries, calling for Mama.

“Oh, he’s in my bed,” Quinn rushes out, jumping up. “I don’t want him to fall.”

“Go. Take care of my nephew.”

I lean back on the couch and let out a breath, hating that there’s no way I can deny it.

Quinn is right.Chapter 4RoryI sit up, groaning, and glare at the sun coming through the window.

“What are you so bright and cheery about?” I grumble. Pushing my hair out of my face, I flop back down and stretch out. I’m desperately thirsty but am afraid I’ll puke if I move. I squeeze my eyes closed and wait for the wave of nausea to pass. Why did I drink so much again?

Oh right.

I got let go from my job.

Got dumped by my boyfriend.

And have ninety days to find a new place to live, and the only other available apartments in Silver Ridge cost at least twice as much as I’m paying now.

And, again, I don’t have a fucking job.

Taking in a deep breath, I slowly sit up again, needing to pee. My feet hit the floor and I stumble, tripping over the pile of clothes I discarded on the floor. I don’t even remember stripping down naked and getting into bed, but hey, at least I’m in my bed—alone—and not passed out on the living room floor, right?

“Don’t judge me,” I tell Figaro, who’s standing in the doorway, wondering why it’s half-past nine and I haven’t fed him yet. “You’re lucky you’re a cat and don’t have a girlfriend or need a job.”

I drink straight from the faucet, use the toilet, and groan all over again when I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Somewhere between the first bottle of sangria and episode number four of The Vampire Diaries reruns, I cried so hard my eyes hurt. Then, somewhere between episode number five and the second bottle of sangria, I apparently removed all my clothes and dragged my pity-party-for-one ass into bed.

I go right back to bed, stomach gurgling, and pass out for another hour before getting up. This time, I force myself up, put PJs on, and feed Figaro. I down another glass of water and regret it immediately. Grabbing a box of saltine crackers from the pantry, I trudge into the living room and plop heavily on the couch. I turn The Vampire Diaries back on, staring at the TV and avoiding real life.