Page 42 of Porter (Dirty Misfits MC 2)
Boom. Brunch.
But as I opened the bottle back up to start chugging, I paused. I peered into the clear bottle of old tequila and half-rancid orange juice before I held it over the sink. None of this tasted good. The beer smelled like piss and tasted like lake water. The scotch itself resembled acid more than anything else. And the smell of the tequila physically made me queasy.
“Not worth it,” I murmured.
I poured it down the drain before reaching for the bourbon. I opened it up and watched the brown liquid glug itself down the drain before I turned on the water. I gathered up all of the cans and bottles into a plastic bag before I rummaged around my pantry, finding more booze shoved into the darkest corners of my apartment.
I poured them all down the sink and stuffed the plastic bag full of the empty containers.
Then, with the water still running, I walked the bag of trash out to the dumper.
“Porter? What are you doing?” Astrid asked.
And at the sound of her voice as I closed my front door, I whipped my eyes up and found her standing in front of me.
With her nostrils flaring as she sniffed the air.
Twenty
Astrid
Staying at Josie’s did nothing for my mind. I grew anxious, I paced around her floors, and eventually she cut me loose. Not that I didn’t want to hang out with her at her beautiful studio apartment or anything, but Porter kept popping up into my mind. I mean, why the fuck was I so afraid of making my brother angry? If he didn’t want to get on board with my happiness, that was his issue. Not an issue I had to fix. Fuck my brother’s feelings on this shit. Porter made me happy and I loved him. I had loved him my entire life, and now I had the chance to be with him.
So, it felt like a no-brainer as to where I needed to be.
“Porter? Have you been drinking?” I asked.
I figured he wasn’t at my place because of my threat. But standing here in front of him when he smelled like alcohol turned my stomach. Had he backslid because of me? Maybe he hadn’t stopped and I simply didn’t notice. I couldn’t love another alcoholic again. I saw that down-spiral once and was helpless to stop it, and I couldn’t do it again.
I left him once over it and look what happened. Don’t judge him for it.
“Astrid. What are you doing here?” Porter asked.
My eyes fell to the plastic bag of empty alcohol bottles. “How—how much did you drink?”
“No kind of hard liquor, I promise. I came to my senses before that happened.”
My eyes whipped up to his. “What?”
I watched him walk past me and I turned toward the stairs. He shuffled down them before he paused halfway and looked up at me. He beckoned with his head for me to follow so I reached into his apartment and grabbed the door knob.
And after closing his front door, I rushed to his side.
“I will admit that I had several beers before I came to my senses. But for my liver, that’s a quick shower.”
I snickered, even though it technically wasn’t funny. “How many beers?”
He drew in a deep breath. “Six? Seven? I shotgunned them, so half of it is on my kitchen floor anyway.”
I sighed. “But… the liquor bottles?”
He leapt off the last few steps before holding out his hand for me. “Poured it all down the drain. Still got the water running, too.”
I slipped my hand into his and walked down the rest of the steps. “I’m proud of you for that. I can only imagine how hard that was.”
“Eh, don’t praise me just yet. I cleaned out my fridge and pantry, but I’ve still got three stash places around the apartment. Once I get it all poured out, then we can celebrate.”
He tried to let go of my hand, but I squeezed even harder. And when he shot me a quizzical look, I interlocked our fingers. His face softened and his eyes flashed with happiness. He pulled me to his side and kissed the top of my head, making butterflies shoot off in my gut. I loved this man and everything that came with him, and if he was strong enough to stop himself while drinking then I was strong enough to stand up to my brother.
And as we walked to throw the bottles into the dumpster, I thought things couldn’t get any better than this.
“I’m really proud of you, you know,” I murmured.
He led me away from the dumpster. “I’m done with that shit. It won’t even come into the house. Or my apartment.”
I nodded. “And I’m not really a drinker unless Josie and I are going out, so there’s no random bottles of wine at my place or anything.”
