Page 100 of Under His Guard

He looks like he’s swimming in his coat, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s actually a teenager.

The shitty pencil mustache makes it hard to tell.

“No worries, man.”

He walks away, and I mentally shake off thinking about some stranger coming out of a hospital.

He’s probably visiting someone sick. Fucking hell, Luke. Just do as you're told for once and go home.

Shaking my head, my fists and joints aching from all the mental strain, I hurry to my car.

It’s a slower drive back to the penthouse this time, and my stomach is roiling, twirling around inside, perpetuating my nausea.

As I grip the steering wheel, I take a quick glance at my hands. The white-knuckle grip is telling.

But even more so is the shake in my fingers as I go to flick on the air-conditioning.

I only get this bad when I’m completely devoid of alcohol, and I know the stress isn’t helping.

I need a damn drink, but now…well, now I’m even more aware of the fact that I shouldn’t.

Clara is fucking right, though. I really should deal with this.

I’m just not sure about the how.

After a few more minutes of struggling behind the wheel, I’m home. I dash inside as quickly as security will let me, which seems to be better today.

That’s probably not good, but who am I kidding? There’s no reason to be this on edge anymore.

Clara isn’t here, and she won’t be any time soon.

Fucking hell.

I scrub a hand down my face as I get inside my apartment, dropping my keys into the catchall dish.

“What am I supposed to do? How do I fix this?”

Walls and empty spaces aren’t about to answer me. If I want any sound advice, I’m going to need to talk to a real human.

And as horrible as that sounds, maybe I’ll try seeking out some real advice and ask one of my brothers.

As the one most recently in a relationship, I choose Dom as the unlucky receiver of today’s call.

It only rings a few times before Dom answers.

“Luke?” I can hear a door close behind him. “It’s the middle of a weekday. Why are you not at work?”

Scoffing, I walk to the fridge, grabbing myself a beer—because clearly, I’m weak.

“I’m not sure how you can tell I’m not there, but hello to you, too, asshole.”

“I can tell because your assistant called twice to check in. What’s going on?”

Fuck, I never called her. Oh, I continue to suck.

“Um, rough night. And day. To say the least.” I sigh, slumping down onto the couch. “Do you…Can we talk for a minute?”

I can practically see the look of surprise on Dom’s face, and I fucking hate it.

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