Lily and James (werewolf novel) novel Chapter 188

Chapter 0188

(Nick POV)

As I left the packhouse, I found myself once again wishing that I did not know what I now knew. As crazy as it sounds, a part of me longed for my old life back. You know, the fake life. The life in which Stephanie was a dead saint, my mate loved me, told me everything, and did not keep secrets from me; and my mother was a good, honest, and respectable beta female.

Not knowing what else to do, and not having anyone else to reach out to, I decided to drink my feelings away. I have never been much of a drinker, but I needed something to get me through.

I briefly considered going to a bar, but then I remembered how drunk James used to get, and I decided that I did not want anyone to see me intoxicated like that. Realizing that I had plenty of whiskey at home, I decided that I would just go home and drink that. (I bought a bottle of whiskey for every male in James’ wedding party, thinking we could each have a bottle after he said “I do” to Sheila. That obviously did not

happen.)

I made it through two bottles before I began to feel the effects of the whiskey. That is when the “great”

whiskey-inspired ideas began.

The first “great” idea that I had was to drunk-text Jenny and beg her to take me back.

Me: “Jenny, I love you so much. Please come home.”

She did not respond, so I sent another one.

Me: “Jenny, you were right about my family. They are awful. Please come home and I will go with you.

I love you.”

Still, she did not respond. That is when the second “great” whiskey-inspired idea hit me. Hint: it was not

a great idea at all. It was actually a d&mn st upid one.

Specifically, I decided that I needed to remind Jenny what she was missing.

I went to the bathroom, dropped my pants, and begin to ma sturbate while thinking of Jenny seven years ago on the night that I marked her. I thought about her soft, cr eamy skin and how delicious every inch of her tasted.

Once my member was standing perfectly at attention, I pulled my phone out of my hoodie pocket and took a few pictures of Mr. Longjohn in all of his glory. (Mr. Longjohn was the name that my drunk self had. decided to give my member that evening.)

Once done taking pictures, I texted Jenny again.

Me: “Jenny, this is Mr. Longjohn. He misses you a lot. Please come home and play with him. He will never be the same without you.”

I waited for a response, but one never came. I decided to go ahead and take care of Mr. Longjohn myself, rubbing one out for him until he got his release.

I fell only fractionally better after that. I decided to go back to the kitchen and polish off another four

bottles of whiskey.

un on the!

The next morning, I woke room couch with a pounding headache. There were empty whiskey bottles and beer cans everywhere (apparently when I ran out of whiskey, I moved on to beer).

“Nolan?”

“I am here,” he responded in a judgmental tone.

“What happened last night?”

“You got drunk.”

“Why do I feel like I am hungover? There wasn’t wolfsbane in any of that whiskey.”

“I decided not to heal you. You were pretty out of control last night. I decided to let you feel how st upid

it was this morning, so that you know not to do that again.”

I groaned.

“What did I do?”

“Besides name your member ‘Longjohn’? And take pictures of him?”

“What?”