Cora Carmack: Seeking Her

I gritted my teeth, my annoyance simmering beneath my skin, and pushed through the crowds on the dance floor, heading in the direction where I’d last seen Kelsey.

I didn’t make it very far before a drunk girl stumbled into me, spilling her nearly full drink down the front of my body.

I winced at the cold splash of liquid, and sucked in a breath. She started, apologizing, but that mostly consisted of her touching me and then trying to goad me into dancing with her. I held her at arm’s length, my jaw clenched so tight that I was probably grinding my teeth to dust.

I managed to extricate myself from her, only to turn and come face-­to-­face with a scantily clad girl making the rounds with a tray of colorful concoctions in plastic test tubes. I’d seen Kelsey down a few of them earlier, and the waitress held one up to me in offering.

My hand was reaching for it before my mind could do anything about it. Seconds before the tube was in my hand, I came to my senses. I pulled away from her so fast that I bumped into the drunk girl again, who spilled even more alcohol on my clothes.

Struggling to keep my breathing steady, I pushed my way a little too forcefully out of the crowd and back toward the edge of the room. I commandeered the first empty chair I found, slamming myself down into it and burying my head in my hands.

One year.

Well, almost.

I was almost one-­year sober.

Less than two weeks until I would hit that milestone. If I were back home, I’d be getting my one-­year chip, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this would be any easier if I had it now to squeeze in my fist.

But I didn’t have that chip. And I hadn’t yet made it to one year. Sweat was beading on my fucking forehead just from the determination it took to keep myself in the chair instead of searching out a drink. The smell of whiskey wafting up from my drenched shirt sure as hell wasn’t helping.

I pressed my knuckles into my forehead hard, and then sat back, staring up at the ceiling. I watched the moving lights that flashed neon colors around the room and tried to clear my head.

Alcohol had been my crutch for a long time. It had practically raised me when my parents weren’t around to do the job. Stepping away from my dysfunctional liquid family hadn’t been easy. It had taken a war, a new family, and daily reminders of the thin line between life and death for me to beat it.

Here, I was alone, and exposed in a way that I hadn’t allowed myself to be in a long time.

“Damn it,” I groaned under my breath.

I could do this. I just needed to redirect all this energy into something else. Something active was usually best.

My eyes found Kelsey again on the dance floor. Unbidden, the thought rose that she would make an ideal distraction.

Immediately, I shut that down.

I was not trading one bad decision for another. Besides, she was the one who’d gotten me in this mess to start with. If alcohol sent me off the rails, then Kelsey was likely to send me off a cliff.

I just . . . I needed to get out of here.

Yes, I was supposed to protect her and that didn’t include leaving her in this massive crowd. But I wouldn’t be any help to her if I caved and had a drink.

The best thing for both of us right now was for me to get some distance.

HALFWAY BACK TO the inn, I realized I was practically stomping my way home. My teeth had been clenched so tight that my entire head ached. I was pissed. Pissed that I was even in this situation, that Kelsey wasn’t who I’d expected her to be.

Sure, I hadn’t relished the idea of following her to museums or plays or whatever, but that would have been better than this. Better than risking my precariously balanced life so she could party it up like a high school kid.

God, I was a fucking killjoy without alcohol. What I wouldn’t give to be as carefree as Kelsey. Angry seemed to by my primary emotion these days. How had Rodriguez and the other guys put up with me?

A misplaced smile cracked across my lips. They hadn’t, that’s how. They’d never had any problem telling me when I was being a pain in the ass.

My skin flashed hot and then cold with the memory of my old unit. Still much more bitter than sweet.

There was a military ban on alcohol for much of the time I’d spent in Afghanistan, but it happened anyway. I kept clear of it for the most part, but one night, I’m not even sure how, I ended up with a bottle in my hand. Rodriguez found me, took it away, and then used it for firing practice.

He told me that I had the unfortunate problem of fighting two wars at once, and I’d find myself losing them both if I wasn’t careful.

I wished he were here to talk me down now.

But he wasn’t.

And that was another war within me, too.

I settled for stepping into the shower in my room, still fully clothed. I let the water weigh down the fabric, hopefully removing all traces of the alcohol that had been spilled on me. When I was satisfied, I shucked the heavy material and hung my clothes up on a hand rail on the tiled wall. Then I stood under the steaming water and tried to wash away the thoughts too. I closed my eyes and let the water pour over my face.

I was going to have to find some way to cope with this. If not, I was better off calling Mr. Summers and suggesting he find someone else to take over his daughter-­watch.

I felt a pang of something at that thought. It was a general kind of discomfort, and I wasn’t sure whether it was the thought of returning home or something else that made that thought so unappealing.

After the cooling walk earlier, and now standing under the calming rush of water, it was easier to think that I could control myself, but I knew better. It always seemed easier in my head than it really was.

I wiped the water from my eyes, and tried to think of some other way to deal. There was always the hope that Kelsey would get bored. That she would mellow out. If she only partied a ­couple nights a week, I should be able to resist. But that seemed unlikely.

All that restless energy; the way she’d soaked up the attention from the ­people around her. I couldn’t see her giving that up. And it was working for her. She was still in the phase where partying made her feel good. That was the one thing that helped me stay clean. The few times I’d slipped up since I started the program had left me miserable and angry, and even more frustrated than when I started. I’d found new ways to chase the high. And maybe that wasn’t any healthier, not when one way involved being in the midst of flying bullets.

It wasn’t the same kind of rush, but it did the trick. I pictured Kelsey again, laughing with her head thrown back, her shirt falling off her shoulder and displaying the gentle curve of her neck. It reminded me of the way she’d tossed her head back that first day out in the woods.

The memory of that caused a different kind of rush in me, and I groaned, pressing my forehead into the tile. Before I could help myself, I pictured her long legs straddling that guy in the gardens. The bright green material of her bra, and the way it conformed to her perfect chest. She leaned back, her fingertips trailing from the bark of the tree to his shoulders.

In an instant, the memory shifted into fantasy, and those were my shoulders she clung to, not his.

That was my undoing. There was only so much resisting I could do in one night. Letting go of any thoughts about what was right or appropriate, I imagined what it would be like to have her legs clamped down around my hips, and her fingernails digging into my skin. I imagined her long hair tickling my arms as I smoothed my hands down her back to those maddeningly short shorts.

I closed my eyes to shut out the world, and let my hand drift down to one problem that was all too easy to solve.