Bastian's Storm (Surviving Raine 2)

“What?”

She shook her head.

“Something I heard from a professor.” She wouldn’t look at me, and strangely enough, I knew why.

Raine had never lied to me before, not about anything. Still, I knew she was covering something up. I rose up on my knees to look her straight in the face.

“Where did you really hear it?” I questioned.

Raine bit down on her lip and fiddled with her fingers before answering.

“A group meeting,” she admitted.

“What kind of group?”

With a tightened jaw, she finally looked into my eyes.

“It’s a support group for people living with alcoholics,” she said. “I don’t have a study group on Tuesday nights; I go to that group instead.”

She’d been telling me she was at a study group every week for the last couple of months and had apparently been lying to me about it the whole time. The revelation had taken me aback to the point where I didn’t know what to think, let alone respond.

What had she heard at this group? Was this organization trying to help people get away from people like me or how to live with us?

Pressure built up inside of me again.

“So, what?” I asked. “They tell you how to deal with people like me? Help you get away from me?”

“No,” she said. “I mean, yes, they sometimes talk about that, but that’s not why I went. I just thought they could help me understand you better.”

“Did it help?”

“Honestly, no,” she said. “I was hoping that it would, but it really hasn’t. It’s mostly people trying to one-up each other on who has had the roughest life. There were a few helpful things, and some really nice people, but no. Dealing with you is rather…unique.”

I let out a short laugh.

“I bet. You mean I’m a bigger asshole than the other alcoholics?”

“No,” she said, “you’ve got a better reason for it.”

I thought about that for a minute. Maybe I did have a good reason, and maybe I didn’t. Considering all the crazy shit in my past, she could probably top a big-ass cake with my stories, except she couldn’t tell anything to anyone.

She did realize that, didn’t she?

“You…you didn’t actually tell anyone…” I trailed off.

“No,” Raine confirmed, “of course not.”

Thank fucking God.

As I thought about it, I realized what a shit position I put her in. At least those other people had a place where they could vent—a place to explain what was happening with their lives, but Raine had nothing. She couldn’t tell people about me at all, which meant she had no one to confide in. Lindsay didn’t even know about all the shit in the past. Sure, she knew what had been revealed on television, but that iceberg could take out a fleet of Titanics.

I’m such a shit.

I stared at her as she went on.

“Knowing your reasons doesn’t mean I condone what you did,” Raine said. “I’m still mad about you getting drunk. I understand, though. I’m kind of wanting a drink myself right now.”

“I know,” I said with a nod. I was actually a little relieved to be back on the topic of drinking, considering everything else that still had to be said. “It’s not like I’m happy about it or anything—I feel like a total shithead. I don’t know what else to say about it. I fucked up. I won’t do it again. I can’t do it again.”