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-Nash to Tyson
NASH
“Can you fucking stop,” I grumbled.
My brother, who’d given Zip and me a ride home since Zip refused to drive in the city, laughed. “It’s just hilarious, okay?”
“What’s hilarious is when you shut the fuck up,” Zip grumbled.
Zip and Tyson were currently in an argument.
Zip was trying to tell Tyson that it wasn’t necessary to have a license. That you could still get places just as easily without a way to drive there. Meanwhile, Tyson was very adamant that Texas was just way too big to navigate by foot, and that it was imperative for everyone know how to drive if they were comfortable with it.
That’s when it was revealed that Zip didn’t drive because she was terrified of driving.
Not because she’d had some traumatic thing happen to her to keep her from driving, but just because she didn’t like the way the other drivers acted. They got too close, went too fast, and didn’t pay attention. Basically, she was scared.
And, technically, anything over the speed of thirty-five was too fast for her.
She’d white-knuckled the OS—oh shit—handle like it would save her if she held on to it tight enough all the way home.
It’d been about three-quarters of the way through our drive that it was discovered why Zip didn’t drive, and Tyson hadn’t let up since.
Which was unfortunate seeing as Tyson didn’t know when to shut the fuck up. Oh, and Zip’s temper hadn’t cooled a single bit in the two days that I was in the hospital.
She was also incredibly grumpy because she hadn’t gotten enough sleep—the nurses coming in and out to check on me had woken us both up—and it was very apparent that she needed a decent amount of it to remain a somewhat functional human being.
Needless to say, she already had a very short temper, and Tyson wasn’t making it any better.
“All right,” I said stiffly as I made my way toward the couch in my apartment. “That’s enough.”
Tyson’s eyes twinkled, and I knew he wasn’t going to give up. But my ‘you better fucking stop or else’ must’ve come across clear as day on my face, because he shut his mouth.
“You need anything?” Tyson asked as I lowered myself down.
It was only as I made myself more comfortable that I started to see the stuff around my apartment that most definitely wasn’t mine.
A candle on the mantle. A throw blanket on the couch beside me. A pile of magazines on the floor by the door.
There were also a few pairs of shoes scattered throughout.
Like someone besides me was living there.
“What the…” I started to say, but Zip squeezed my hand.
I clamped my mouth shut before Zip answered my brother for me. “No, he’s good. You can leave now.”
Tyson snorted. “Yes, ma’am.”
It was only as Tyson unloaded my prescriptions onto the counter and left that she explained.
“I didn’t want them to think that I didn’t come here at all,” she admitted. “Your parents and family have been in and out of your place all week.”
“Oh,” I paused. “How did you get in?”
“I have a friend who can get me in anywhere,” she paused. “But this time, I just stole your keys.”
I snorted, then stretched my feet out and carefully lifted them onto the ottoman that definitely hadn’t been there before. “Where did this come from?”
“My place,” she answered. “I didn’t know where you would want to sit, and since you don’t have a chair that lifts your legs in here, I pulled it up the stairs and brought it in.”
“You literally, or figuratively, pulled it up the stairs?” I wondered, worried now.
“Well, originally, I was going to very carefully pull it up the stairs,” she said. “I figured one flight wouldn’t be that hard, and I didn’t want to get it all the way down the hallway since we’re only separated by the floors. But then I didn’t expect it to be so heavy…and yeah. Pulled.”
My lips quirked up, and I tilted my head to get a good look at her.
She was perching on the arm of my couch, and she looked so damn cute.
Why did she always have to look so cute?
She looked like a grumpy little gnome in her black sweatpants, sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, and her scrunchy, pissed off expression.
“Thank you,” I said, and meant it.
“You’re welcome.” She looked at me surprised. “What do you want me to do?” she asked. “Would you like me to go home, then come check on you every couple of hours? Or stay?”
I hesitated, very much wanting to tell her to stay, but knowing she’d probably like it better if she left.
My hesitation made her sigh.
“I’ll stay.” She sounded so freakin’ put out. “But I have to go grab a change of clothes, then I’ll take a shower here.”
Then she stomped away, looking for all the world like the Grinch who couldn’t stand to be around people.
