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He chuckles, the sound deep and reassuring. “Noted. I’ll be sure to drive extra carefully then.”
The engine hums to life, and the car pulls smoothly away from the curb. Streetlights flicker past, casting intermittent glows across Grayson’s features. Every once in a while, he throws me a glance that makes my heart tick faster.
“Feeling okay?” he asks, eyes on the road.
“Better now, thanks to you.” The words come out soft, sincere.
“Good.” There’s satisfaction in his voice.
I sink deeper into the seat, letting the steady rhythm of the car soothe the lingering adrenaline from earlier. Watching Grayson handle the wheel with such ease, I can’t help but feel safe, protected.
“Almost there.” His voice cuts through the quiet, gentle as the night.
“Thanks again, Grayson. For everything tonight.” I mean it more than he knows.
“Anytime, Brielle.” And in the space between words, there’s a warmth, a promise that somehow, we’re in this together.
* * *
The hotel lobby looms, drenched in soft light. Grayson’s arm is steady under Sierra’s weight as we navigate through the automatic doors. She’s giggling, a sound that’s half delirious, half exhaustion.
“Left foot, Sierra,” I coach. “C’mon.”
“Stars are spinning,” she slurs, and it’s all we can do to keep her from crumpling into a sequined heap.
“Almost there,” Grayson murmurs, his voice a low rumble of encouragement.
We shuffle toward the elevator, the digits on the floor indicator blinking upward. The cool air of the hotel feels like a balm after the tension of the karaoke bar, and I’m grateful for the quiet. Sierra leans heavily against me, her breaths warm puffs against my neck.
“Push three,” I say, nodding at the panel as we stumble inside the lift.
Grayson’s thumb brushes the button, and then he’s back at my side, supporting Sierra’s other shoulder. There’s an ease to his movements, despite the awkwardness of our human cargo.
“Thank you,” I breathe out, meeting his gaze. He just nods, eyes telling me it’s nothing, but it’s everything.
The ding of the elevator signals our stop, and the doors slide apart with a silent whoosh. We edge down the corridor, past closed doors and numbered plaques. Sierra mumbles something unintelligible, head lolling.
“Here,” I say when we reach her door. Fumbling in her purse, I find the keycard and swipe us in.
The room greets us with its dim tranquility, only a lamp casting a golden pool on the floral bedspread. Grayson eases Sierra onto the edge of the bed, and she collapses back, arms splayed.
“Water. And aspirin,” I insist, turning to the minibar.
“Nu-uh,” Sierra protests weakly, batting at the air.
“Trust me, you’ll thank me in the morning.” My tone brooks no argument as I fill a glass and fish out a couple of tablets.
“Here.” I press them into her hand, guiding it toward her mouth.
“Yuck.”
“Down the hatch,” Grayson says, backing me up, his presence a solid comfort.
Sierra grimaces but complies, making a face as she swallows. “You’re bossy,” she accuses, but the fight’s gone out of her.
“Only because I care,” I retort, tucking the covers around her.
“Thanks, Brielle,” she mumbles, eyelids fluttering shut.
