Filthy Beautiful Lies(#1#2)

Colton

Against my better judgment, I returned to work. Sophie assured me that it was important that we both resume our normal schedules. But as one week turns into two and Sophie continues her descent into a woman I no longer recognize, I know I need to call in reinforcements.

There were a few days there that gave me hope she was getting better. She’d gone for a jog, had stopped by Kylie’s to see the baby once, and had actually talked to the grief counselor I sent to the house. But as I arrive home from work tonight, my heart shatters at what I find.

Sophie is sitting on the balcony that extends from my office. The wind is whipping her hair wildly around her face and goosebumps cover her flesh. A storm is coming, but she seems oblivious to that fact.

Her skin is pale, and her expression hollow. She’s merely a shell of the girl I fell in love with. Giant blue eyes are staring blankly at the ocean and she’s taking huge sips of my bourbon straight from the bottle. And the way she no longer grimaces at the taste tells me that this is probably a regular occurrence. Fuck.

“Baby?” I ask, approaching her with caution.

Her head turns in my direction and she blinks several times. “I’m losing it, Colton.”

I kneel down on the deck in front of her and cup her face in my hands. “Losing what, sweetness?”

“Everything. The sound of her voice. The way she smelled. How it felt when we were together…”

I sit there, speechless, holding her cheeks and watch her eyes fill with tears. Fuck, Colton, think.

She’s completely fucking broken right now and I’m worried that the only one who’d know how to put her back together again is Becca, the sister she shared a womb with for nine months, the best friend she loved without question. I’m terrified that I’m not enough, that my love will never be enough.

“I have to pee,” she says after several seconds, then rises unsteadily to her feet.

I walk her to the bathroom, helping to keep her stable. “How much bourbon did you have?” That shit is strong. Strong enough to knock me on my ass after one small glass.

“Not enough,” she says, her feet twisting beneath her. I grab around her waist, keeping her face from smacking against the floor. Dammit.

When we reach the bathroom, I maneuver her into the room, pull her shorts and panties down to her ankles and then sit her down on the toilet. “I’ll be right outside the door.”

She nods and I close the door behind me.

I can hear the sound of her peeing and muttering something to herself. Something about pink Starbursts. What the hell?

Standing in the hall, I fish my cell phone from my pocket and dial Pace’s number.

“I need your help.”

“Sophie?” he asks.

“Yeah. She’s drunk off her ass. Drank a whole bunch of that hundred-year old bourbon. I’m scared and I don’t know what to do.”

“That shit’s strong. Has she eaten?” he asks.

“No, I doubt it. She mumbled something about pink Starbursts.”

“I’m on it, bro. Just breathe. I’ll be there soon.”

Just as Pace makes it inside the house, the sky turns dark and a loud roar of thunder crashes in the distance. The rain will be here soon.

“Where is she?” he asks.

“The bedroom.” I’d laid her down with a photobook from my last trip to Africa. It seemed that she could look at the photos of the small villages, the people, the children for hours on end.This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks.

“We need macaroni and cheese.”

“You should have told me, I could have picked some up.” He holds up a plastic bag that is filled with at least a dozen packages of Starburst candy.

“No, we need to make it homemade.”

“How do we do that?”

“I don’t know. Google it, I suppose.”

He nods and heads into the kitchen.

“Bring it up when it’s ready,” I tell him, then head for the stairs.

Sophie is snoring softly, but when I cross the bedroom, she lifts her head and blinks several times, her eyes unfocused. I’m glad she got some rest, however brief.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, sitting beside her on the bed.

“Groggy,” she confirms, pushing the messy hair from her face.

“I thought I could run you a hot bath. It might help you relax.”

She nods. “Okay.”

At least she lets me take care of her. She doesn’t fight me on that. If she did, I’d really feel helpless and out of control. As it is, I know my subtle gestures may not help much, but at least I can do something.

I turn on the hot water and watch the tub fill. After dumping in a generous amount of something in a purple jar called Stress Fix, I go gather Sophie.

She lets me carry her into the bathroom, undress her, then lower her down into the water.

“How is it?” I ask once she’s settled.

“Nice,” she says and treats me to a rare small smile.

My heart leaps, God I’ve missed seeing her happy.

“Will you be okay for a few minutes? I’m going to get you some clothes.”

She nods. “You’re coming back, right?”

“Yes,” I confirm.

Once I have a fresh change of clothes for her, I reenter the bathroom, set them on the counter, pull out the stool from the vanity and sit.

“Thanks for staying.” She grins at me again.

“Of course I’m staying. Do you want me to wash your hair for you?”

She shakes her head. “I washed it earlier. I do still shower, you know.”

“I know you do.” I did not in fact know this.

“I’m not broken you know.”

“I know you’re not.”

I wait on the stool, and check my work email on my phone while Sophie lounges in the tub. She sinks down into the water and rests her head against the edge, her eyes closed and a blank look across her features. When she secures her hair in a messy knot at the top of her head, I can tell she’s still drunk by her uncoordinated movements.

My stomach churns with worry. I try not to hover, try not to stare, and instead focus on responding to the dozens of unread mail messages, but it’s hard. Thoughts of her consume my entire being.

When I hear movement in the water, I glance up. Sophie has risen, standing in the center of the tub with streams of soapy water cascading down her body. My eyes wander lazily from the tips of her full breasts down to her bare pussy and I feel my body take notice of hers. My cock throbs, swelling against my thigh. The fucking bastard has bad timing. But a naked Sophie is not something I can ignore, no matter how somber the situation.