When I'm released from the hospital, Terry insists on giving me a ride.
"Are you sure you want to go back?" he asks, his voice thick with disapproval.
I nod.
"You can crash at my place as long as you want…" he offers as we pull into my driveway. "You and Gigi."
I smile but shake my head.
"We're gonna get through this." I tell him. "We're going to get sober. And this will never happen again," I smile.
He shakes his head but puts the car into park.
When we walk through the door, I notice the entire house is spotless. Mars stands in the kitchen awkwardly. I smile at him. His lip twitches in a half smile, but his eyes are watching Terry.
Terry sighs. "You're sure?" he whispers. I nod. He pulls me into a gentle hug. "Call me if you need anything," he says in my ear. He lets go and walks to the door. He pauses as his hand reaches the doorknob. He opens his mouth but closes it and shakes his head as if sending a thought away.
"Love ya, bud," he says to me as he closes the door.
I smile back at him. When the door shuts, I turn to look at Mars. An awkward silence falls between us.
"Gigi?" he eventually asks.
"Terry's going to take care of him for a bit longer… to give us time to readjust."
He nods awkwardly.
"I uh, I got rid of all the alcohol," he mumbles, nudging a stool with his foot. "I don't know if… if you had any somewhere I didn't know about… I got rid of the stuff I knew about and could found."
"Thank you," I smile. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek.
I pause as I look around the kitchen, thinking. I chew on my sore lip absentmindedly.
"I don't think I had anything where you wouldn't have found it." I look through the cabinets just in case. Then I remember – I'd stashed away a bottle of scotch – a present. I make my way into our room. Memories of out last fight force themselves to the front of my mind. As I approach the wooden chest, my breath catches as if I'd been thrown into it again. I find myself gripping my cast. I try to shake the fear off.
As Mars appears in the doorway, I fish out the scotch.
"It was a present," I smile sadly.
He frowns as he steps closer. He lets out a sigh of appreciation and takes it from my hand. It's a 30-year-old scotch from a craft distillery that we'd once visited. I can almost taste the scotch we tasted that day. I gently take the bottle back.
"It was going to be for Valentine's Day."
He moans softly at the loss. "Thank you," he kisses the top of my head.
"Mm," I hum in response. I run my hand over the label lovingly. "What did you do with the other stuff?"
"Just poured it down the drain," he mumbled.
My eyes widen and I clutch the scotch to my chest. It would be far too wasteful to pour this unopened bottle of beautifully sweet 30-year-old scotch down the kitchen sink. I see in his face that he agrees with my unspoken opinion.
"Oh," my eyes widen with an idea. "I'll give it to Terry."
As Mars longingly examines the bottle again, I pull out my cell phone. The phone hardly rings before he picks it up.
"Hey Ter-" I start but he's already talking a mile a minute.
"I knew it, I knew, don't worry, I'm turning around now bud," I hear tires screech. "I'll be there in a few – do you need me to call an ambulance? Police?"
"N-no," I manage to say. I glance guiltily at Mars, who looked up at the tone of my voice. "Everything's fine. … No really I'm fine – I just have a bottle of scotch that I need you to take off my hands."
"That's it?" Terry asks. "Is this some safe word that I've forgotten. Yohoho and a bottle of … scotch? … No that's rum isn't it?"
"Terry," I say firmly. "I am totally fine. I just bought Mars a fancy bottle of scotch for Valentine's and I don't want it to go to waste. … Seriously that's it. Just want you to take the scotch."
"Oh," Terry mumbles awkwardly. "Well I guess I could probably manage that. I'm 'bout halfway there. See you soon."
I turn as I hang up the phone. Mars has left the room. That's probably for the best, anyway, with how much convincing Terry took to believe that I'm safe. He probably heard every word of it, but I can pretend for now that he didn't.
I find him in the living room. The bottle sits on the table. I sit next to him on the couch. I lean into him, and he lifts his arm so I can snuggle right in close. I feel a relaxed rush wash over me as I inhale his scent deeply. I hum as I allow myself to sink into his warmth. He gives me a gentle squeeze. We sit silently for a few minutes.
"Now what?" Mars' deep voice startles me out of a doze I hadn't realized I'd drifted into.
I mumble incoherently.
"Our first meeting is tomorrow…" I manage. "Other than that, and training, I guess there's not a lot that we have to do…"
We both start as we hear a car door close. Mars gets up to let Terry in. When he walks through the door and only sees Mars, and not me, panic shows on his face. It makes my stomach churn. He relaxes when he sees me on the couch. I glance at Mars – he's glaring at the floor behind Terry. He saw the worry in his face. I stand, pick up the scotch, and hand it to Terry. From the look on his face, I'm guessing he wants to hug me and never let go. Or at least stay the night – make sure we're alright.
"Remember," I say sternly. "It's for sipping, not shooting." I grin, trying to break the tension in the room.
Terry's eyes widen and he looks around the place in a panic until he realizes I was talking about the scotch I was holding out to him. So much for that joke.
"Oh yeah," he mumbles as he takes it. He pointedly makes eye contact with me and raises his eyebrows. He's checking that I'm alright. I give him a small smile and a slight nod.
"Alright, ah, anything else while I'm here?" He fidgets awkwardly.
I shake my head. "Thank, Ter."
An impish grin crosses his face, but it doesn't quite make it to his eyes. "No, thank you," he gestures to the scotch in his hand.
"Alright, guess I'd better be going," he walks to the door. "We still on for some light training tomorrow morning?"
I nod and smile, trying to pretend that I don't know that he's making sure he has a way to know that I make it through the night alright.
The awkward silence hangs over us again after he leaves.
"Ah – you hungry?" Mars eventually asks me.
"Ja."
"Ah – I didn't ah have anything…" he opens the fridge and scrunches up his nose at what he sees. "Ain't nothing in there…"
He grabs a menu off the fridge and turns to me with a bashful smile. "Take out?"
"Take out." I agree.