Romancing the Bachelor (A Hamilton Family 2)

With that, he’d kissed her and walked away.

She’d let him, without telling him the truth.

The sound of Eric’s door closing snapped her out of the past and into the confusing present. She started toward her place but stopped after two steps. Slowly, she turned her head and looked at those flowers…the ones she’d seen before Eric came home drunk. She’d forgotten about them the second she saw Eric, but suddenly they were all she could think about.

He was angry at her. To the best of her knowledge, she hadn’t done anything wrong besides accept a job—which he didn’t know she’d done in the first place. But what if…?

What if he knew, and was pissed?

What if he showed up earlier and found out she’d lied this morning and had indeed gotten a job offer? Would that be enough to make him so angry at her? There was only one way to find out if he’d shown up at her place earlier and overheard her conversation with the moving company.

She needed to look at the flowers.

As she walked over to them, her pounded harder with every step she took. Reaching out, she saw the card nestled in between the stems.

Whichever way you fall, I’ll catch you.

–E

Swallowing hard, she picked them out of the trash, staring at the handwritten card. It was the perfect note, just like she’d thought he was the perfect guy.

Tightening her grip on the roses, she marched toward her apartment, anger chasing away her confusion and pain at his actions. So. He wanted to tell her he was on her side, that he’d never try to hold her back, but the second she actually had an offer, he abandoned ship and got drunk? All those things he’d said about being happy for her if she got a job…

Lies. All lies.

In the end, he was just like every other guy out there.

Selfish.

Chapter Nineteen

Eric woke up slowly.

Painfully.

It felt like someone had stuck a million pins through his eyelids, holding them in place so he couldn’t open them. He swore there was an actual jackhammer pounding against his skull, too. Jesus, how much had he drunk last night, and why had Wyatt let him? All he remembered was driving to his parent’s house, picking up a bottle of his dad’s favorite whiskey, and then sitting in the chair by the fireplace to wait for his brother.

After that first glass of whiskey, the rest of the night became a blur. Groaning, he sat up and looked around. He was in his bed. Alone. That was a good start to the morning.

“You’re alive,” Wyatt said drily from his left.

Screamed from his left was more like it.

“Sh.” Eric massaged his temples. “Don’t fucking shout.”

Shaking his head, Wyatt stood and picked up a glass of water. Holding it out, he shoved three white pills into his hand. “Drink this and take these.”

Eric didn’t argue.

As long as they stopped his head from feeling like it was being crushed slowly and agonizingly, he didn’t even give a damn what the hell they were. He swallowed them, grimacing as the water hit his unsettled stomach. Lying back against the pillows, he sighed and closed his eyes as his brother took the water out of his hand. “What the hell happened last night?”

“You tried to drink until you forgot,” Wyatt said, irony in his voice. “I’m guessing at some point, you realized you’d never forget and just drank for the hell of it.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?” he asked, pressing a hand against his forehead.

“By the time I got to Mom and Dad’s, you were already a bottle into your night.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “I got stuck in traffic, and it took me longer than expected.”

“Shit,” he mumbled. “Did they see me?”