The front door opened and closed. I pried my eyes off the TV to see who the poor bastard was that thought I’d be any sort of company.

My brother Beck ascended the stairs, his head clearing the half wall that cut off the split-level flight of stairs from the front door. His cowl-neck sweater and jeans told me he wasn’t in town for business. He’d come because of me.

His gaze found me right away and swept down my wrinkled black slacks and the button-up shirt that was hanging open and missing half its buttons. I’d tried to undo the top two but my fingers had fumbled and I’d just ripped the damn thing open.

“Aiden? Shit.”

I turned my focus back to the TV. I’d picked a show where the characters were having a shittier time than I was. Shameless I think it was called. It also had double digits of seasons so I didn’t have to expend the brain power to find something else. Endless Shameless.

Beck didn’t move from the top of the stairs. His stare bored into me.

“That bad?” I asked dryly.

“Not good.”

I didn’t have to look at him to know that he was taking in the empty beer bottles at my feet. Those were from yesterday. The empty vodka bottle on the end table was from Friday night—no, Friday afternoon. The Ararat brandy I kept for Dad had run out Saturday morning. And I’d drunk all the beer the rest of Saturday. Good thing I didn’t keep much alcohol in the house. My brothers drank beer and they weren’t over very often.

So today, I let the hangover steep me in suffering. I wasn’t fit for going out in public.

“Have you at least eaten something in the last twenty-four hours?”

I screwed my face up, but my head throbbed. “Maybe?” At some point, I’d stuffed leftover lo mein and an egg roll in my mouth when I’d gone to the fridge for a new beer.

Beck let out a frustrated sigh and went to the kitchen behind me. He rustled around, opening cupboards and banging plates. Each sound ricocheted through my head.

The microwave started and a full water bottle was set on the end table. Beck leaned over the back of the couch and held out his hand. Two white pills sat in his palm.

I accepted them, popped them in my mouth, and took a few pulls from the ice water. I didn’t care what they were, but since I’d had to scrounge for alcohol, the pills were probably just Motrin. “Thanks.”

“You smell like a liquor store got into a fight with itself and lost.”

“What the hell does that smell like?”

“Have you been in the same clothes since…”

“Since Kate left me?” My chest squeezed. “Yep.”