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“About a quarter of a mile.”
“You’ll never manage getting him to walk that far,” he muttered. “I’ll drive you up to the door.”
“310587,” I rolled out the code, which just so happened to be my date of birth. “Just key that into the pad over there and they’ll open for you.”
Joey keyed the code into the pad and waited for the gates to open inward.
“Again, I appreciate this,” I felt the need to mention. “I know it’s out of your way.”
“Just returning the favor,” he replied, driving up the narrow laneway toward the house.
“This place is amazing,” Aoife said with a dreamy sigh. “Look at all the trees and—oh my god! Look at the size of that house,” she squeaked when the house came into view, lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.
Mam was paranoid as fuck about potential robbers thinking the house was empty so she had automatic sensors and timed lighting installed everywhere.
In the yard. In the house. On the lawn.
It was ridiculous but drunk me was grateful for the illumination.
Joey killed the engine and climbed out, adjusting his seat as far forward as it would go.
I was much steadier on my feet when I was getting out than I had been climbing in.
“Thanks again,” I said before reaching into the back and hauling Sleeping Beauty himself out of the car. “I owe you one.”
Wrapping an arm around still half-asleep Gibsie’s waist, I dragged him to the front door and wrestled to get my keys out. Failing to get them out of my jeans pocket, I dropped him on his ass and battled with my jeans for a long moment before finally retrieving my keys.
“Stop, will ya, I’m sensitive,” Gibsie groaned before curling up, snoring resumed.
“Here,” Joey announced when I managed to stab the timber frame with the key, missing the keyhole by a good three inches. “Let me give you a hand.”
Grateful for the intervention, I handed over my keys and turned my attention to my friend. “Get up,” I growled, nudging him with my foot. “We’re home.”
Fucker didn’t budge.
“Gibsie!” I barked.
Nothing but snores. Goddammit.
Releasing a frustrated sigh, I reached down and grabbed his shoulders and tried to haul him off the ground.
Joey, who had the door open, came and helped me heave him up.
I was in no position to decline his help, so with each of us taking a side, we hauled his deadweight ass into the house.
“Drop him down in here,” I instructed, gesturing to the living room.
“You sure?” Joey asked, flicking on the light. “That couch is white, man.”
“It’s leather,” I muttered, too tired and sore to worry about my mother’s three-piece suite. Shuffling over to the couch, we tossed Gibsie down. “If he pukes, he’ll be hosing it down by himself in the morning.”
“Fair enough,” Joey replied with a shrug before turning around and heading for the door.
I trailed after him, not really knowing what to say. This night had gone from depressing to infuriating to downright confusing in a matter of hours.
“Listen,” Joey said when he stepped outside onto the gravel. “About Shannon.”
Here we go, I thought to myself. I’d been waiting for this since I climbed into his piece-of-shit car. Behave yourself, Kav, keep your mouth shut.
