Page 64 of Give Me Peace

“Real cute, sweetheart,” Lochlan whispers against the shell of my ear, nearly making me drop the bite of food I was about to shove in my mouth. He moves along, grabbing his own tots and taking a seat on the couch. Havok pops the top on my beer and nods at me to give it a try. I sniff it, my nose scrunching at the foul scent. With very little expectation, I take a tentative sip.

“Blech.” I shiver in disgust as the guys all laugh. “How in the world do people drink this?”

“It’s an acquired taste.” Havok teases. “Or you just get used to cheap shit and learn to like it.”

“Nope. There’s no chance I’ll ever like that.” I shake my head, taking a bite of food to rid the aftertaste from my mouth. I give Kash a thumbs up for a job well done.

“Figured you’d say that.” Havok opens one of the top cabinets and pulls out a clear bottle of vodka. “Whipped cream flavor.” Before I can question how smart it is to start out with something so strong, Krew passes him a shot glass. It’s filled and placed in front of me a second later.

“Uh…” I hesitate, glancing at Lochlan. I feel certain he’s going to veto the hard stuff if he was already hesitant about a beer. He smiles, dipping his chin for me to give it a go. Alrighty then.

“Just toss it back.” Roan encourages. “That’s the only way to do it.”

Not wanting to chicken out, seeing as this was my idea in the first place, I pinch my nose and pour it down the hatch. The burn makes me cough, but it’s not too bad. The sweet flavor is a heck of a lot better than the piss they’d tried to make drink.

“Hell yeah!” Kash fist pumps the air, earning himself a laugh. We eat, Havok refilling my shot glass every so often, and at some point, music gets turned on. Miley Cyrus’ Party in the USA blares through the speakers, making me squeal in delight. I hop on the coffee table, the alcohol I’ve ingested warming me from the inside out. My body feels light and limber as I sway my hips to the beat. Kash, who looks just as tipsy as me, sings the lyrics into the handle of the broom he’s straddling. He thrusts against it, looking ridiculous but somehow sexy at the same time. I laugh and close my eyes, content to bask in the happiness I’m feeling.

I’m yanked from my reverie, strong hands pulling me off my makeshift dancefloor just as the song changes. I blink, finding myself face to face with Kash. He gives me a lopsided grin while singing along to the Backstreet Boys. We spin in circles until I’m passed off to Lochlan. He watches me tenderly as Havok hands me another shot. I swallow it quickly and hand back the empty glass. My fingers itch to muss up his perfectly styled hair, so that’s exactly what I do. My inhibitions are lowered, allowing me to initiate contact I normally wouldn’t. Lochlan indulges me, not once complaining as I play with the soft brown strands. When my eyes start closing against my will, Lochlan places me on the couch and tucks a blanket around me. I smile as he presses a kiss to my forehead, my hand latching around his wrist as he goes to pull away.

“You’re the best watcher-over,” I slur, wanting him to know just how much I appreciate the way he takes care of me. Of all of us. Chuckles sound out through the room as I snuggle deeper into the plush couch and let sleep claim me.

I shift, my eyes blinking open sometime later. It hasn’t been long since I drifted off, but the music is gone and the only light comes from a faint glow in the kitchen. Everything starts to spin. Flopping to the ground, I use someone’s leg to help me stand. Havok. He’s sprawled across the floor, his lips barely parted as he draws in a deep breath. I turn to walk away, letting my hand guide me as I blindly stumble to my room. I’m hoping a shower will help sober me up because I’m clearly still drunk.

I strip, leaving a trail of discarded clothes from my door to the bathroom. But once I’m beneath the hot spray, all I can think about are the encounters I’ve had with the guys since being here. The ones that make me question everything. Why them? Why so soon? Why so many? I press my thighs together, recognizing the ache between my legs but too terrified to do anything about it. I huff in frustration.

How the hell can I entertain the thought of intimacy with any of them when I can’t stand my own hand? Wanting to prove myself capable, I trail my fingers down my stomach. With a steadying breath, I drop one lower, brushing it over the bundle of nerves begging to be touched. I whimper at how good it feels, but the moment the pleasure registers, Liam’s face flashes through my mind. I jerk my hand away as tears build behind my eyes. I hate him. I don’t want to be broken anymore. Angry with all of it, I turn the water off and slap the door open.

I dry myself as quickly as my inebriated state allows, eager to be back with one of the guys. They make it better. The negative thoughts. The memories that linger right below the surface. Just…everything. I throw some clothes on and make my way to the living room. I only have to hold the wall twice, so I think the alcohol is fading. I could really go for some chocolate milk, though. I tug the fridge open, glaring at the harsh light, and immediately decide it’d take way too much effort to mix everything.

My eyes snag on the list as I close it, making me smile. I grab a pen and crookedly scratch out ‘get drunk’. They wasted no time making that one happen. In some far, dark corner of my mind, I start to wonder else they might be up for helping me with. I blame what I do next on the lingering vodka still pumping through my veins. In fact, the whole thing feels like an out of body experience. I still grin like a loon once I’m finished, tossing the pen back in the junk drawer.

I shuffle toward the couch, finding Havok in the same spot as before and Kash bent halfway over the arm. As much as I’d like to snuggle both of them, they aren’t in prime snuggle positions. I have a feeling tomorrow morning will be rough enough without the added ache of sleeping on the floor. With that thought, I go in search of another cuddle buddy. There’s a faint glow coming from Krew’s office, but if he’s awake it’s because he’s working, so I keep going. I turn to the right, knowing mine and Havok’s side will be empty, and push open the first door I come to.

“Sonofa…” I swear, wincing at the pain flaring through my poor stubbed toe. I glare at the boot, giving it a wide berth as I bang my way around the foreign space. When my fingers graze the edge of a bed, I hoist myself up, grunting from the coordination it takes to not topple back off. I feel my way up a thick thigh, stopping at a deliciously toned abdomen to give it a few appreciative pats. Roan. No one in the history of ever is built like him.

“You good now, or do you need another feel?” There’s a smile in his voice, and I’m not the least bit surprised to find him awake, watching me make a fool of myself. My knee digs against his leg as I try to make my limbs work. But at least it wasn’t the crowned jewels. Roan snorts, placing his hands under my arms so he can pull me up. I drape across him, sighing at the vast amount of surface area I have to rest my body on.

“Sweet dreams, Little Fighter,” he whispers, playing with my hair and making it all too easy to welcome sleep.

Chapter Thirty-One

Havok

I wake with a groan, every inch of my body achy and stiff. I blink through the harsh morning light, rotating my head just enough to see behind me. Kash is still passed out across the couch, but Saylor is noticeably missing. I feel well beyond my years, having to use the damn coffee table just to get myself upright. My muscles protest every step of the way, stomach churning from the mix of beer and liquor I’d stupidly tossed back last night. Shit, I haven’t gotten that drunk since my blackout phase shortly after Say disappeared.

My mouth is so fucking dry I can’t get my tongue to work properly. Hand to God, I’m never drinking that much ever again. Squinting, I eye the kitchen and aim my body in that direction. I jerk open the medicine cabinet, not caring one bit that if I’m being loud. Kash has woken everyone in this house at least a hundred times at the ass crack of dawn. It’d serve him right to suffer alongside me. I fumble to get the stupid child lock open on the Tylenol, almost banging it on the damn counter.

Finally, I pour four of those blessed little pills into the palm of my hand, not bothering to put anything back where it goes, and grab a cold water from the fridge. Leaning back against the island, I close my eyes and will the nausea to dissipate. Mixing alcohol is such an amateur move, but I didn’t stand a chance at resisting Saylor when she begged me to take shots with her. I smile, remembering the way she let loose last night. Twirling around the living room like a goddamn vision of everything good and right in the world. She’s the embodiment of hope. A second chance I never saw coming, and I’ll do everything I can to keep her happy and smiling.

Now that the edge is gone and I don’t feel so close to hurling, I peel my eyes back open. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I take another sip. Like a comic spit-take, water goes flying everywhere. My focus is pinned to the list on the fridge, the one that Saylor is supposed to fill in—by guidance of her therapist. I slap my hand over it, like that will somehow erase the scribbled words from my brain, only to spread them right back open, needing another peek just to be sure my mind isn’t playing tricks on me. Yep. Still there.

Holy fucking shit.

“You look like ass,” Krew jabs, sauntering over to the coffee maker. That’s saying something coming from him, considering he’s probably slept a total of eighteen hours in the past four days. As soon as his back is turned and he’s focused on curating himself some caffeine, I yank the paper from the magnet holding it in place and tuck it in my pocket. And not a second too soon. Lochlan walks in, looking just as tired as Krew, but there’s no getting those two from their offices until they’re good and ready. Kash groans, sounding just as miserable as I feel. His body thumps against the floor, making me wince, and a pained whine follows. The three of us share a secret smile, knowing how much of a lightweight he is. Hell, I think Saylor drank more than he did.

Speaking of the blue-eyed beauty…

Ro enters the main room, drawing all of our attention. Not so much him, but what he’s carrying. Saylor is slumped against his chest, her arms tucked beneath her, face buried in the fucker’s neck. Meanwhile, his meaty arm is braced beneath her ass as his free hand strokes up and down her spine. Her tiny little feet swing with every step he takes, making me wonder if she’s even awake. Ro sits on the barstool, keeping Saylor in his lap, and that’s when my brain catches up to what she’s wearing.