“You just have to be there for him. Support him. That’s all you can do for him right now.”
“I am! Every damn day I tell that man what he means to me. He’s everything to me. I can’t handle watching him abuse himself like this.”
“Let’s take this out back before he comes out.” Nick and Thomas jumped up and helped us.
By the time we walked the bottles out to the barn and came back, everyone else had settled down for the night. Addie had made up our beds, and Henry was already shirtless and passed out face first into his pillow, lightly snoring. I stood there for a moment, staring at the tribal wings on his back rise and fall at a slow tempo. I worried that they would become real.
Then I joined everyone in the kitchen. Addie stood, leaning up against the counter. “How long has he been drinking?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Since I met him, he’s always had a drink in his hand. Sometimes more than others. There were several occasions that he would stay at my apartment because he was too drunk to drive. Now that I think about it, he always drank a lot. More than anyone I knew. I thought he was just having a drink, or had a high tolerance, you know?” I shook my head. “He’s been through a lot, Addie. I can’t even get into it all, but it’s really bad stuff.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t know how to help him.” I wiped the tears away with my sleeve.
“You can’t help him. He has to work through this himself. Hiding the booze won’t help him.”
“I thought about dumping it, but maybe you could use it to barter with if you needed to.”
“I appreciate that. You’re a very sweet girl, Elaina. All of you are good people. I adore each and every one of you.”
“He looks at you like a mother. He said you are the closest thing he has ever had to a mother since…”
She held up her hand. “Thank you,” she choked out. “I appreciate the compliment. I’m going to go to bed. See you in the morning.” She reached out and cupped my cheek with her hand. She hurried out of the kitchen, and I followed behind.
Claire and Nick headed to bed, and I lay down next to Henry. He moaned and rolled over. I snuggled up against him, spooning him, holding him tight.
I wondered why I never realized before that he was an alcoholic, but I could understand why he would want to drink himself into oblivion, or even death. He just wanted a moment to forget, to not remember the war within himself. My sweet, sweet Henry was so full of agony.
Chapter 40
I
woke up as the sun began to rise. When I realized I was alone in bed, I sat straight up. Thomas and Shay were asleep, and the house seemed quite still. I stood up and looked out the front window. The grass was frosty. I wondered where Henry was. I headed to the back window in the kitchen, and I didn’t see him out back, either.
My heart began to race. I ran back into the living room and grabbed one of Henry’s hoodies, and put on my fraying, gore-speckled sneakers. I grabbed my Sig and made sure it was loaded. Then I quietly headed out the front door. I worried that he had done something stupid because he was so upset the night before.
It was so cold outside that my teeth chattered when I stepped out of the house. I looked around in panic mode. Then it occurred to me that he was probably in the barn. I ran into the barn and called his name.
“Up top,” he said. My body slumped in relief, knowing he was still alive. I worried that he had put a bullet in his head.
I climbed the ladder, and saw him sitting with his knees pulled into his chest, watching the sunrise. He had his ball cap on, hiding himself. My heart sunk when I saw an empty bottle next to him. Immediately, that lump rose in my throat. I tried to swallow it, but it wasn’t going anywhere so I sat down next to him.
Henry didn’t say anything for the longest time as cried, but then he softly spoke, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I managed to croak out.
“Love, don’t cry over me. I’m not worth it.” That felt like ten thousand daggers in my heart. I clutched my chest, and the tears poured down my face.
“How long have you been drinking?”
“Drinking in general? Or drinking like I am now?” I looked over at him and noticed he had another bottle open in between his legs. “I guess it doesn’t matter, does it?” He sighed. “I started drinking when I was sixteen, after my first really severe beating. I was hospitalized for a while. The pain killers weren’t doing a damn thing so I tried booze.”
“Where did you get the alcohol?”
“Stole it.” Of course, I thought. How else would he have gotten it? “My heavy drinking started about a year later.”