She rarely worked when she went out, now. Catherine thought he didn’t know, but he did. She was dealing more and more at school. It was concerning because it was dangerous. He didn’t really get a say, though, because they weren’t something anymore.
Not officially, anyway.
She called.
He went.
She cried.
He saved.
Like a circle that never ended.
Apparently, tonight would not be the night it ended, either.
“Give me the address,” he said. “I’ll be there in an hour or less.”
“You don’t have to.”
Yeah, he did.
“I’m already out of bed, Catherine.”
That was a lie, but it was only for her benefit.
Catherine whispered the address.
Cross finally got out of bed.
“I’ll be there soon,” he promised.
“Okay.”
Cross’s house was still dark and quiet when he finally got back. Only, he wasn’t alone like he had been when he left.
Catherine, not as drunk or stupid as he thought she might be, stayed close to his side as they navigated the halls of the Donati home. Her fingers wove with his as they slipped into his bedroom.
He took extra care to make sure they were quiet. Sure, his parents’ bedroom was one floor higher, but sometimes, all it took was a floorboard creaking to wake up Calisto.
Cross was in no way interested in explaining why Catherine was with him, how much she had been drinking, or anything else. His parents would not approve. They would tell him to send her home.
He couldn’t do that.
Not when she asked to stay.
Cross barely got the bedroom door closed before Catherine was shedding her clothes. In only a bralette and panties, she crawled into his bed, and disappeared under the blankets. She did all of that without even saying a word.
He expected nothing different.
Sometimes, she was all too predictable. She just wanted him close, but not too close. She wanted to feel him near, but not too much of him.
She was up.
She was down.
Like whiplash coming for him at every fucking turn, he no longer knew how to handle it, or what to do.
Sure, he wanted to help.