“Whiskey, glass, pour, toss back, glare. Repeat. “Cop out,” I slurred in retaliation, pointing the empty glass at Peter. “Don’t get drunk. Fuck. I need you sober,” he yelled, snatching the glass out of my hand. “There’s the problem right there. You need me sober. You need my help. You need something from me.” I laughed, tossing the bottle on the sofa, ignoring the glug glug glug as it emptied over my cushions. “And I just need you.” “Need me to what?” He asked with a huff, tipping the bottle right-side up. “Nothing. I just need you,” I whispered and flopped into a nearby recliner.”
Book:Shattered Glass