Lucien and Linc are pulling Caleb from the back of the car, but the flash of red hair catches my attention.
“I’m sorry Noah, I couldn’t let him get shit-faced alone,” she slurs in a whisper shout.
I’d smile if I wasn’t so concerned about Caleb and his passed-out state.
Lincoln turns to her and says something I can’t hear. She looks almost hurt as she retreats inside the car.
They have Caleb between them, his arms slung over their shoulders as they pretty much carry his weight.
“Fuck, I swear this fucker has doubled in size in the last couple of years,” Lucien says as I move aside so they can bring him into the house.
“Where too?” Linc asks.
I nod to the stairs. “First bedroom on the right.”
If I thought I could get him to bed myself, I’d tell them to dump his sorry arse on the sofa.
Closing the front door, I quickly follow with Jessica as they get him up the stairs and onto the bed without issue.
“Thank you,” Jessica whispers.
“No problem,” Lucien says. “We’ll leave you to it and get out of your hair.”
He steps up to me and pulls me in for a hug. “If you need anything, Noah, call me, okay?”
I pull back and nod. He doesn’t have to say any more, it’s written all over his face. He knows.
“Thanks man. Come on, I’ll see you both out.”
I glance back to Jessica who is already removing Caleb’s shoes.
“Go, lock up. I’ve got this,” she tells me.
Chapter Forty-Six
CALEB
My head spins as I try to recollect last night.
I know I went to Formidable, where Octavia came to keep me company as I got drunk. To be fair, she did too, if I recall correctly, much to the chagrin of Lucien and his best friend Lincoln.
She’s a grown arse adult and can do what she wants to do, but Lucien and Linc stayed anyway. Linc was clearly concerned over Octavia, not that I’d ever hurt her, but considering we drank our weight in alcohol, it was probably a good thing they stuck around.
I never drink like that. Well, not anymore at least, and it was a selfish move on my part.
At least I somehow managed to get home, but the fact I’m in the guest bedroom likely means I’m in the doghouse, and rightfully so.
“Fuck!”
Pushing myself up, my stomach churning and my head spinning, I make my way to the ensuite, only now realising I’ve been stripped down to my boxer briefs.
Running my hand through my hair, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I look like utter shit and feel like shit too, which is more than I deserve.
I brush my teeth twice in the hopes of getting rid of the rancid taste in my mouth but forego mouthwash. Something tells me if I try to gargle right now, I’ll puke.
Stripping out of my boxers, I step into the shower, crank on the jets, and step under the spray, hissing as a blast of cold water hits me before it begins to warm up.
I rest my forearm against the wall, trying to clear my head, and work on what I will say to Noah.
