Page 90 of Intrepid

Had I not gotten the impression that I was somehow his source of anger, I’d have asked if he did it himself. Instead, I remained silent.

Pushing off the doorframe, he handed me the bottle of water. “You ever have that shit before?”

I shook my head, and judging by the queasiness in my stomach, I’d never drink it again. “Tasted good going down, but coming back up …” A rasp clung to my words, and the gurgle in my stomach threatened more expulsions. I pressed the back of my palm to my lips, breathing hard through my nose.

“All the hardest liquors are in it. Like twenty-percent alcohol.”

“Is that why I feel shaky and cold?” I mumbled against my hand, letting the wave of nausea pass.

“Probably your sugars out of whack.”

“What time is it?” I asked, cracking open the bottle and guzzling the cool liquids. Despite the immediate soothing of the burn in my throat, the drink didn’t help the chill across my skin.

“About three in the morning.”

“You’ve been here all night?”

“Pretty much.” He rubbed his thumb across his palm, lowering his gaze from mine. “You had a shitty day?”

I’d actually forgotten about it until right then. Sighing, I squeezed past him, headed toward my closet across the room. “Yeah. My dad.”

“What about him?”

Stripping out of my jeans, I watched Ty’s eyes follow my every move, could see the slow rise and fall of his chest as I removed my top and swapped it for a long nightshirt. “It’s nothing.”

“It was enough that you needed to get yourself drunk.”

I rolled my eyes and groaned at that. “For the record, I didn’t set out to get drunk tonight. But I digress. He’s moving forward with transferring Jo into a nursing home. Unless, of course, I rob a bank between now and then.”

“So, you need money?”

“I need options. I’m so … tired of having to make deals to help the people I care about.” Rolling up my jeans and shirt, I tossed them into the hamper I kept just outside the closet. “It’s exhausting. I’m eighteen years old, and I feel like … like everything is weighing down on me all the time. I just need a break. One good thing to happen.”

“Go on. Get in bed.” He waved me toward the thick duvet I couldn’t wait to cuddle up in.

“Are you staying with me, or something?”

“Yeah. I’m staying tonight.”

I smiled at that, making my way toward the bed as he commanded. “Well, that’s a start of something good.”

“Don’t get too excited. You’re going to sleep.”

“And you’re going to what? Watch me?”

“Somebody has to. You’re like a damn toddler sometimes, always running off.”

“Look, I don’t remember a lot of things about last night, but what I remember vividly is never once calling you to come save me.”

He rubbed his hand down his face and sniffed. “Shut up and lay down before you really start to piss me off.”

“And what? You throw your tantrum and end up fucking me against the wall?”

His brow kicked up in warning, but instead of letting another smartass remark fly, I crawled into bed, and Ty slid in beside me. The moment he covered me in the blanket, my whole body shivered against him, and he dragged me closer, tucking the blanket around me. Lying against his chest, I could hear his heart beating in my ear—a slow and steady cadence that matched his easy breaths. He kissed the top of my head and stroked my hair, and for a moment, I was ten years old again, lying beside my mother.

The gentle calm and warmth lulled me into a drowsy state. As the aching effects of the alcohol dissipated, I thought about the events of the evening. Blacking out, and him being there. How? And why?

“Ty? Did you save me tonight?”