Faded Perfection (Beautifully Flawed Book 2) by Cassandra Giovanni

alcohol.
    My jaw clenched as I opened the door to the apartment knowing it would be empty. Adam’s car wasn’t in the lot, so I knew he wasn’t home. But there was still a part of me that hoped something was up, and his car was in for service, or anything really, that meant he was home and not off somewhere getting loaded. I sank into the couch, kicking off my heels, and tipped my head back, putting my chilled hand to my overheated forehead. Then again, it appeared he didn’t have a problem getting drunk here either. Adam had a problem, and I had my own. I couldn’t even begin to grieve over Bobby when I was grieving over the implosion of my entire life. I barely made it through the day at work because my body ached. The part that hurt the most was my chest. It was tight, making it hard to breathe and the air conditioning didn’t seem to be working. I boiled at work, even in my car with the air blasting. I glanced down at my watch, and a shiver ran through my body. Adam hadn’t texted all day, or to indicate that he wouldn’t be home, but I was late– wicked late in fact.  I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe he came home on time and then left because I hadn’t. Maybe his drinking was partly my fault. I rubbed my throat as pain coursed up it, and I went to get a drink of water from the kitchen.
    This could be my fault.
    I filled a glass and gulped down the contents before leaning against the counter and watching the water dripping from the faucet.
    Or this could all be in my head, and Adam was just out practicing with the band. I knew they were getting paid to perform now because Adam left the checks on the entryway table for me to deposit. Maybe all that plus working with the kids every day was just wearing him out. Maybe that’s why he was going to sleep so early every night.
    I turned to face the living room. There was one way to find out. If he was going to drink in the bedroom, then there had to be a stash there. My feet propelled me to the room, and my hands formed fists as I glanced around the immaculate room. Where would I even begin to look?
    My eyes drifted to my guitar case, and then up to the wall where my guitar was mounted. My fingers tingled, and I was tempted to abort the mission and pick it off the wall to play it. That would be more soothing than finding a bottle or more in that case. My gaze dropped back to the worn leather case leaning against the wall. But there could be nothing in it–then I could play and have peace of mind.
    I swallowed hard. Or there could be at least ten bottles of SoCo. I rubbed my sweaty palms against my slacks as I walked up to it and then leaned down to flick the brass buckles open. I closed my eyes as I lifted the lid, opening them slowly to stare at the red velvet fabric. My stomach rolled, and my breath rattled in my chest as I stared at the half empty bottle. It wasn’t ten, but as I fell back on my ass and dropped my head to my knees, I knew one thing for sure.
    It was one too many.
    I hadn’t realized exactly how accurate it was when I said Adam was a functioning drunk. Every night it was the same thing. He came in the bedroom and drank away the day. I looked up at the dark Boston sky– or maybe he didn’t. One half empty bottle didn’t mean that.
    I let my chin drop to my chest as my hands tangled in my hair.
    No, but hiding it was a strong indicator it did. And the receipts. And the booze breathe.
    I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. Seven, and Adam still wasn’t home.
    Where are you?
I texted him before going to the contact list.
    “Hey, Ducks, everything okay?” Dad asked.
    I was quiet. What was I going to say?
    “Ducks?” his voice deepened, and I realized he was probably panicking.
    “Sorry, I just need someone to talk to.”
    “About?”
    “Adam…I think he has a problem.”
    “A problem?”
    I rubbed my hand over my face. “Yeah, he’s drinking a lot…” I began and then the words rushed out in a uncomprehending stream; “And I found