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Even if she wakes up tomorrow hating me.
My phone dings with an incoming message. Immediately followed by another.
I open my phone and the first thing I see is a screen shot of a TLK story featuring an image of me carrying Laney out of the club tonight, with a caption that reads: Phoenixes Captain celebrates Ottawa win with a sexy pirate at Halloween party in River North.
Fucking paparazzi. I don’t even have to look at the name to know who sent it to me.
Beckett: WTF is this?
Me: Looks like a picture of me rescuing your sister.
My phone rings and I swipe before it wakes up Laney. “Hel–”
“You know exactly what I was asking, asshole. Why was she out dressed like that? A sexy pirate, I mean, fuck.” He yells through the phone.
“First of all, she was Elizabeth Bennet, not a fucking pirate.” I leave out the sexy part for obvious reasons. “Second, Delaney is a grown ass adult who does whatever the fuck she pleases. She might be staying with me, but I don’t dress her.”
No, you just undress her.
“It’s just… you’re supposed to be looking out for her, Bish”
“And I am, D. That’s why I was there. She went out with Avery, had a few too many and Mercer and I went to check it out after the game. When I saw the shape she was in, I hauled her ass out of there. End of story.” I whisper yell.
“And you just had to play white knight and make a scene carrying her out. Shit. She’s a fucking headline now. I hope my parents don’t see this.” He rambles.
“I did what I had to do, I’m not a fucking babysitter.” I start to raise my voice and remember the sleeping brunette next to me.
“How did you know where she would be?” He’s like a dog with a damn bone.
“Who do you think ordered the car to drive them around so they wouldn’t be drinking and driving?” He knows how my parents died, and he knows enough not to press me on it. “But I was worried and wanted to make sure, so I went by after I left the arena.”
“Yeah, sorry man. I just worry about her. She okay now?” He exhales harshly.
“Yeah, held her hair while she puked, made her hydrate. She’s sleeping it off now.”
“That why you’re whispering?”
Fuck. Fuckity. Fuck.
I clear my throat. “Did you want to rephrase your question?”
“Nope, I think you know exactly what I’m asking.” And I do.
“She’s good, D. She’s safe.”
“Thanks, Bish.”
“Always.”
I hang up the call and drop my head back against the headboard. “Looks like Beckett just joined our little antitrust trio, Darcy.”
He walks over, climbs into my lap, and meows. He’s either saying it’ll be okay or you’re so fucked. I don’t know which, because I don’t speak cat. But I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
DELANEY
Iwake up in Bishop’s bed.
