“What are you doing?” I push the door closed behind me, fighting the urge to cry.
“Going down with the ship,” Danny says with a grin. “Aw, don’t look so upset. It’s just a few bottles of wine. Nothing to cry about.”
“You’re an alcoholic,” I remind him, though I’ve never seen him wasted and have had to take his word for it that he and alcohol don’t mix well.
Even back when he used to drink, Danny never drank in front of me. Anytime there was a party on the beach or at one of my friends’ houses, he would volunteer to be the designated driver. He said he didn’t want to lose control or put me in danger. Back then, he swore he didn’t need alcohol to have a good time, but maybe now he needs it to dull the pain.
“I am,” he says with a shrug. “But who gives a shit, right? I like to drink. No, I fucking love to drink.”
He takes a swig of wine straight from the bottle and lets out a happy sigh. “Nothing feels this good. Just numb and free, up above it all.”
I lick my lips and cross my arms, not sure what to do, whether I should try to take the last bottle away or let him finish before I coax him into bed with a glass of water. I’ve never drunk anywhere close to three bottles of wine, but I’ve overdone it enough to know he’s going to feel like shit tomorrow whether he gets that last cup or so in him or not.
“You were right, Sammy,” he says, lifting his bottle in an unsteady toast. “Being a hero is overrated.”
I freeze, chest lurching beneath my tightly clenched arms. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m serious,” he says, the last word slurring. “I’m with you, babe. Fuck trying to do the right thing. Fuck caring about other people. Let’s just do what we want.”
I shake my head slowly back and forth, still unable to believe what I’m hearing. “So this is my fault, too? I lifted you up, and now I’m dragging you down? Is that it?”
“Maybe we should start stealing things,” he says, ignoring my question as he lifts his bottle for another swig. “I’ve never told you, but I think Caitlin and Gabe still steal shit. Like they used to back before we moved to Croatia. I caught Gabe coming into the house dressed all in black a week before I flew out. He had a sock mask in his hand and everything.”
He winks at me. “See, I can keep secrets, too. I didn’t tell you about that. I kept it a secret. All. To. Myself.”
“I’d be so pissed at you right now if you weren’t drunk,” I say, lip curling as I turn to the kitchenette, grabbing a coffee mug and filling it with water from the tap.
“Then be pissed.” Danny laughs, a lazy rumble that makes me want to pour the mug of water over his head. “I know what I’m saying. I’m not going to let the knight in shining armor side of me ruin things with you. Deep down, I’m still that fucked up kid I used to be. I can be him again, all I have to do is stop trying to be something better.”
“Fuck you, Danny.” I set the mug next to him on the table and snatch at the wine bottle, but he manages to jerk it out of my way.
“No, fuck you, Sam,” he says, grabbing my wrist and holding tight, adding in a husky voice, “I want to fuck you all night long in that bed, and we’ll wake up tomorrow and start fresh. We’ll just be you and me. We won’t give a shit about anyone but each other. I didn’t even call Caitlin tonight like I said I would. Fuck caring. Fuck sisters and babies. It doesn’t matter. We matter.”
“That’s not what I want,” I say, pulling at my wrist, ignoring the way my heart has started to pound in my chest. “Let me go, Danny.”
“No.” His grip tightens until my wrist aches and horrible memories begin to sharpen their claws at the back of my mind. “I’m never going to let you go. I love you too much.”
He swallows hard. “I was headed out the door after you left and I just…couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave you. I don’t care about being a good person if I can’t be with you. I don’t care about anything as much as you. If you’re going down, Sam, then I’m going down with you.”
Tears fill my eyes and my breath starts to come in shallow pants. “Please let me go.”
“No, come kiss me,” he says, tugging me closer. “Let me show you I—”
“Let me go!” I shout, the last word ending in a hysterical sob. “Please!”