Y/N's POV
I wake up around 6 am and notice I'm in bed alone. It's cold without my giant teddy bear of a husband. I leave my room and knock on the door of Peyton, our 17 year old.
"Peyton! Up and at 'em!" I yell as I head to the twins room and knock on their door.
"Olivia! Artemis! Sun's rising so you should too!" The twins are 14.
Then I open the door of my youngest's room. I walk up to him and rub his shoulder. "Brandon. Time to wake up," I say gently. He's 8 years old. He groans and I slide the comforter off him. He groans louder and I walk out of the room to make breakfast.
***
I spend the day grocery shopping and running errands before picking up the kids. Peyton has his state finals basketball game tonight so I'm rushing the kids.
"Guys! We have to leave soon!"
Artemis comes downstairs with a frown painted on her face.
"What's wrong Arty?"
"Dad didn't show up for the awards ceremony," she says. I sigh. Dylan had promised her months before.
"I'm sure he had a good reason so when you see him at the game, you can talk to him about it." She nods and heads upstairs to finish getting ready.
30 minutes later, we're in the car, heading to the game.
***
Peyton's team wins, Peyton scoring to break the tie. I cheer him on and look around the crowd to see if Dylan is there. No sign of his brown hair or his honey eyes.
Peyton runs to me and I hug him tight, him being an extra two inches taller.
"Congrats my state champ!"
"Thanks mom."
I feel Brandon tap my shoulder. "Dad's not here," he says sadly. I see my children's faces change instantly.
"Let's go home guys," I tell them. Olivia nods. Artemis crosses her arms. Peyton puts Brandon on his shoulders and we walk out together.
Tension grew as we parked in the driveway and Dylan's car was parked.
"Figures..." I hear Peyton say under his breath. I sigh as I turn off the car and have the kids head into the house.
In the living sat a tired looking Dylan. He has bags under his gorgeous eyes and his hair sticking up in all directions, like how Brandon usually has his hair. The kids head upstairs, not greeting their father. Dylan scoffs.
"The hell is wrong with them?" He slurs. I look at the coffee table to see 3 empty beer bottle and a bottle of vodka half empty.
"Dylan, please tell me you're not drunk," I beg. He scoffs again and takes a swig of vodka.
"I've been lonely. Where have you been with my children?" he asks in an annoyed tone. I scoff.
"Our children, Dyl. And we were at Peyton's game. Which he won," I say. I'm furious that he would not show up at the game but shows up at home drunk.
"Well who cares? I'm going to sleep!" he yells.
"Dylan, the kids don't need to wake up to you being intoxicated!"
"Who cares?"
"I do! And you'll be sleeping on the couch. I don't want to be in the same bed as you if you're like this."
"I pay for this fucking house. I'll sleep in my fucking bed!" He grabs a bottle and drops it on the floor, shattering it. I gasp.
"Is everything ok?" I hear Olivia yell.
"Everything is peachy, Arty!"
"It's Olivia," I mutter.
"Whatever." I go to clean up the shards of glass but I accidentally step on one. I yelp in pain as Dylan just stares at me. Not flinching or anything. I clean up the glass, limping. Dylan sits on the couch and falls asleep. I fall on the kitchen floor and cry of the pain in my foot.
"Mom?" I hear Peyton call out. He rushes to me and wraps my arm around his shoulder to hold me up. "Dad! Mom got hurt!"
"You handle it. I had a long day making movies for the millions of fangirls who want my hand in marriage," he slurs out.
"Your wife has a fucking piece of glass in her foot!"
"Well I had a long day at work!" Peyton sighs as he sets me on the couch and tends to my foot. Dylan stands up and groans.
"I'm going to take a shower..." he mumbles. Peyton pulls the glass out of my foot. I wince and grab my son's shoulder. He wraps my foot in bandaging and rests it on a pillow.
"Dad's wasted," he comments. Olivia walks down the stairs and gasp to the site of my foot.
"Mom are you ok?"
"I'm ok Liv," I tell her.
"Dad reeks of alcohol and passed out in the hallway." I sigh and stand up, slightly wincing. I walk up the stairs slowly, Olivia helping me and I see my husband sprawled out on the floor, snoring his ass off. I sigh and bend down to wake him up.
"Y/N?" I sigh as I helped him up.
"Kids go to bed while I help your drunk father get his ass to bed," I tell them. Olivia and Peyton nod and head to their rooms.
I drag Dylan to our room and sit him down on the chair. I sigh as I stare at the sight of my husband. All sweaty and exhausted.
"Y/N? I did something stupid, didn't I?" he asks slightly slurring. I nod and sit on the bed. "I'll make it up to you and the kids." I look down at my bandaged foot. Dylan stands up and sits down in front of me. "I'm sorry my love. I did this to you," he says, caressing my foot. I grab his hands and pull him so he lays next to me.
"Get some sleep my love. You'll have to make a lot of apologies in the morning," I whisper. He wraps his arms around my waist and falls asleep instantly. I sigh.
He has a lot of apologizing to do in the morning.
Part 2?
