Preacher cleared his throat, and she looked up to see him on the stairs, watching her.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” Her voice sounded croaky even to her. Other than the scream at the hospital, she hadn’t spoken a single word.

Speaking seemed like a lot of hard work.

“How are you doing?” he asked, moving up the stairs until he was really close.

“Fine. Better than could be expected, I guess.”

“Have you talked to Randall today?”

“No. I don’t need to talk to him.” She got to her feet and brushed past him.

Preacher didn’t stop her from going, and she went into the kitchen. She needed a drink. Her first thought was to reach for the whiskey. She hadn’t drunk a drop of alcohol since that night.

She picked up the bottle, which was on the counter. Preacher followed her into the room.

“I know I shouldn’t drink my sorrows away,” she said.

“No, you shouldn’t. Drink is not the answer to any of our problems.” He grabbed the bottle out of her hand, produced two glasses, and poured them both one. “But, sometimes, a drink can help.”

He pushed the whiskey toward her.

“My stitches?”

“You’re healing, Robin. You can take the drink, or not, it’s really up to you. I’m not going to force you to drink.” He downed the whiskey in one gulp. “With everything going on, I’d say we earned it.”

She stared at the amber liquid.

For once, she wanted to stop thinking about the pain. The memories consumed her, and she hated how her dreams would go from sex to being trapped in the forest with no one. Lifting the glass to her lips, she knocked the whole thing back, and coughed as she did.

“It’s strong.”

“No kidding.”

He poured her another glass.

“The stuff is horrible.”

“That’s the point.”

“You drink horrible stuff on purpose?”

“It’s strong and gets the job done.” He finished his second glass. “That’s me done. It’s the first time I’ve had any alcohol since finding out I’d knocked you up. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“Yeah, you did. I was pregnant, and now I’m not.” She didn’t drink this glass all in one go. She sipped at it, savoring the strong aroma.

All of her senses seemed to be on high alert, and she hated how delicate she felt, and how everyone was treating her. Even Bishop.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Preacher asked.

Randall had been trying to get her to talk or to speak to a shrink or someone. She didn’t want to talk.