Chapter Four

Light stabbed at Greg's brain, making his headache worse. He blinked, trying to figure out where he'd lain his head. Wherever it was, it was soft, and he had a pillow.

A couch. Based on the light, he would say Travis and Jaron's house. He turned away from the windows and shut his eyes.

It took him a minute to open the rest of his senses. When he did, he heard movement from the kitchen area and smelled freshly brewed coffee. Bobby talked to someone about horses. The familiarity of his voice and the subject matter put Greg at ease, despite the headache.

Alcohol sucked.

Greg wasn't sure if he believed in a higher power, but if there was such a being, he was pretty sure he'd pissed it off. Even his moaning hurt his head. He'd take the pain if God could wipe out everyone's memory of yesterday. More specifically, of how Greg had acted around Brian.

Did he really call Brian perfect? And he was pretty sure he talked about his fucked-up parents, although that last one was kind of fuzzy.

"Papa told me to give you this." Carter's voice lanced through Greg's brain about as much as the light did.

Greg rolled onto his back before sitting up. His heart beat out a rhythm in his head.

Carter held out a cup of water in one hand and some pain pills in the other.

"Thanks."

Carter shrugged and then turned on the television. He sat on the floor in front of it and flipped through the channels.

Greg had to avert his gaze as his stomach rolled from all the motion the channel surfing created. Instead, he focused on the cup of water and the pills. He popped them into his mouth and drank from the glass.

He'd been to the boss's house for dinner and to hang out with Carter sometimes. He'd never spent the night before, though.

He took in the room, trying to ignore how he felt like shit warmed over. The main floor of the house was one big open space with the kitchen on the left side and the living area on the other. The main point of the whole house was the view outside the window. Everything was green and lush.

Jaron stood in the kitchen with a dishtowel thrown over one shoulder and a smile. He poured coffee into a mug. The mug had a horse on it. "Feeling okay?"

Greg shook his head but otherwise didn't say anything.

Jaron placed the mug on the center island. "Coffee will help."

Greg understood the silent message. If he wanted the drink, he'd have to put up with a bit of a lecture. It was the first of many dreaded conversations.

When Greg stood, he suddenly felt like a dirty homeless guy. He wasn't a neat freak, but he did like to change his clothes and shower regularly. The clothes he had on were the ones he'd worn yesterday. Sleeping in them made him feel even grosser. And he was pretty sure he had alcohol oozing from every pore of his body. He smelled like vodka and despair. "Mind if I shower first."

"Yes. Sit down." Oh shit. That was Jaron's dad face, which he never gave Greg. Greg had seen Carter on the receiving end of it a time or two, though.

Okay, Greg did as commanded and sat on the stool.

Jaron turned around and opened a fast-food bag. He pulled out a wrapped cheeseburger and set it next to Greg's coffee.

Greg shuddered and held in the vomit that threatened to rise to his throat.

"It'll help."

Even as Greg unwrapped it, his stomach turned. He'd had the flu once, and it felt a bit similar. Greg shut his eyes and lifted the greasy burger to his mouth, taking a bite. He sipped his coffee in between, going slowly for two reasons. The first was his stomach would reject the food at any moment, and he needed to get ready to run for the bathroom, which was thankfully close. The second reason was the longer it took for him to eat the more he could delay whatever Jaron had to say, and Greg doubted very much that he'd like any of it.

His stomach settled a little at a time as the grease from the burger coated his insides, absorbing some of the alcohol. The pain medication also kicked in, relieving his headache enough that he could focus on other things.

"I'm going to save the talk about how alcoholism is inherited and how you shouldn't drink for that reason alone, not to mention how it could poison your system if you drank enough of it at one time. Leonard will have that talk with you, I'm sure." Jaron wouldn't mention it. Right. Gotcha.

Greg sipped his coffee and tried not to roll his eyes. "Then which lecture am I going to get from you?"

"Well, the first one is about not being a smart ass." Jaron narrowed his eyes.

"Sorry."

"No, you're not, but now I see where Bobby gets his attitude from sometimes."

"It's Carter now, remember." Greg smiled and then grinned when Jaron shook his head in exasperation.

"Go wake Dad up, Carter."

Carter got to his feet and ran up the stairs.

Jaron watched Carter until he was out of sight. "He's growing so fast. It's hard remembering to call him Carter after calling him Bobby his whole life. Don't know why he feels like he's too grown-up for the name Bobby all of a sudden." Jaron shook his head.

"Double digits."

"What?"

"It's because he turned ten years old and that's double digits. He told me that the other day." They spent a lot of time together in the horse barn. Greg appreciated the fact they had a common interest in that they both loved horses.

"Oh, I never thought of that." Jaron's expression turned pensive for a moment and then he shrugged. "So Carter's mom was an addict. She was never violent, but she did things that bordered on neglectful. I could never really trust her around Carter because she'd get high in front of him or forget he was there. Scary to think of your kid home alone when he wasn't even school age yet."

Greg took another sip of his coffee and wondered where Jaron was going with the story if he wasn't centering it around addiction as he claimed.

"Tracy never took care of anyone in her life, including herself. Even when she was sober."

"So, this is a lecture about how I'm not like my parents because Leonard raised me."

"Some things aren't a part of your DNA, Greg."

"And some things are."

"You won't get violent. You're not the type."

Greg wanted to throw up. "You don't know that."

He had a temper, and he wouldn't deny it. He couldn't because hurting someone wasn't on his bucket list, especially not someone like Brian.

"I know you'd never hurt Brian." Jaron smiled and lifted his eyebrows. "If you ever asked him out."

"That ain't never gonna happen."

"Why not?"

"He doesn't even know I exist. Least not in a romantic way." While that fact hurt, it was something Greg had faced a while ago.

Jaron opened his mouth to speak, but Greg held up a hand. "I don't intend to drown my sorrows again."

"Most of that was about your mom wasn't it?"

Greg nodded. He'd never been one to lie to himself for very long. He drank the last of his coffee and pushed the mug across the counter. "Thanks. For the hangover cure and the talk."

Footsteps on the stairs caught his attention at the same time he stood. Brian came down with his dark hair wet from a shower and Molly tucked under his arm. He looked like the best cure for every type of illness.

Brian's smile and the fact that he was halfway down the stairs before Greg stopped staring was the thing that got him moving.

Greg walked to the door, finding his boots on the top of a pile of others. His ears burned, and his face heated with embarrassment.

"Can we talk, Greg?"

Greg shook his head. He couldn't think of a single conversation they could have that wouldn't leave Greg in a pile of heartache. "Sorry about yesterday. Won't happen again."

Greg couldn't walk away fast enough.