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I spin and reach into my car, digging through the glove box until I find a stack of napkins from a fast food run. I quickly turn around and kneel back down beside him.
“Here,” I say, handing him the paper towels.
“Thank you,” he mutters. He avoids eye contact as he takes the napkins and begins wiping his face and hands.
When he’s finished, I smile and nod, giving his shoulder a light squeeze.
“Let’s get back in the car, yeah?” I ask.
His golden eyes flicker between mine, shining with emotions I’ve seen from him before. Appreciation. Gratitude. Admiration.
“Yeah,” he nods, gathering the napkins and bracing his arms against the pavement to push himself up.
I loop an arm beneath his elbow, just to be sure he’s not going to fall and bust his ass. Thankfully, there’s a trash can a few feet away. We slowly walk towards the bin, disposing of the napkins before turning and heading for the car.
Once we’re back on the road and heading home, a piercing silence fills the cab before I feel Elliot’s gaze turn on me.
“I uh…I should probably give you my address,” he mutters.
“I don’t need it,” I reply, shaking my head.
“How do you know where I live then?”
“I don’t,” I shrug. “But I know where I live, and that’s all I need to know tonight.”
“What?” he asks as his eyes dart to all the windows, assessing his surroundings.
His brows pinch together in confusion as I turn into my apartment building and head straight for the parking garage.
“I’m not leaving you alone tonight, Elliot,” I shake my head, pulling into the first available spot.
I put the car in park before turning my head to meet his shocked gaze.
“God knows how much you’ve had to drink tonight,” I scoff.
“I’m fine, Roxanne,” he slurs. “Take me home.”
“You can barely walk, Elliot,” I retort. “Someone needs to make sure you get some food and water into your system before you pass out…again. And once you do pass out, which you will, someone needs to make sure you don’t fucking choke on your own vomit in the middle of the night.”
He rolls his eyes, thumping his head back against the seat.
“So no, Elliot,” I repeat. “I’m not taking you home. You’re staying with me or at the police station. Take your pick.”
He chuckles sarcastically.
“You’re being dramatic,” he sneers. “Plus, it's not like anyone would care if I did bite the bullet tonight.”
I flinch at his words, stabbing me in the chest like a knife. He really thinks no one would care if he were to die. And that breaks my heart.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I shake my head, staring him dead in the eyes.
He drops his gaze, his hands resting in his lap as he picks at the skin around his nails.
“Elliot, look at me,” I command.
His hollow gaze snaps up to meet mine.
“I would care, Elliot,” I admit. “I would care. That’s why you’re staying with me tonight. Because despite our differences, I would never want something bad to happen to you. Do you understand that?”
