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Halo looked over at me with scrunched eyes. “Who the fuck else would I be with? I’m beginning to think you got some kind of brain damage when that plane crashed.”
“I’m taking a cab.” I pulled out my phone to call one when I saw a familiar car drive up.
Sloane didn’t look at either her brother or me when we climbed in: him in the front seat, me in the back.
“Tackle said I was an asshole for calling you, sis. Forgive me?”
“If he’s as drunk as you are, I’d much rather you call me than try to drive. Then, you would be an asshole.”
My eyes met hers in the rearview, and I wished so much that we were alone and I could get her to talk to me. I rested my head against the seat and closed my eyes, remembering in vivid detail—which was surprising in my inebriated state—how every inch of her body looked naked. “God, Sloane,” I groaned.
“Tackle!” I heard her yell. “Wake the hell up and get out of the car.” I raised my head and saw she was parked in front of my parents’ house.
“Sorry ’bout this,” I said, reaching over the seat to pat her shoulder. Halo was slouched up against the passenger door, mouth hanging open, and snoring. “And I’m sorry about the condom.”
“What did you say?” she asked as I was opening the door to climb out.
“I sure wish you hadn’t left that day,” I slurred, suddenly realizing I was a lot more drunk than I’d thought. I looked back over at Halo to make sure he was still asleep, and touched her neck with the tip of my finger.
When she shuddered and leaned her head against my hand, I knew she wished she hadn’t, either.
“Take him home and come back.”
She moved away from me. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“You know you want me again, Sloane. Just as much as I want you.”
She turned and looked at me over the seat. “You’re off-your-ass drunk, Tackle.”
“So?”
“Get the hell out of my car.”
When she turned around to face the front again, I could see the glimmer of a smile. I moved her hair out of my way and put my lips where my fingertip had been.
“Where are we?” groaned Halo, trying to sit up.
“Unblock me,” I whispered before getting out of the car and watching her drive away.
8
Sloane
When I woke the next morning feeling just as sick as I had the day before, I cursed both my brother and Tackle for calling me in the middle of the night to give them a ride home. I meant what I said, though. I was glad they had rather than try to drive themselves.
I rolled over and went back to sleep, thankful that I didn’t have to get up and go to work for the rest of the week.
“How are you this morning, mija?” my mother asked, coming into my bedroom and sitting on the side of my bed. She felt my forehead. “Still no fever. Do you want to try to eat something?”
Nothing I could think of sounded appealing.
“I’ll bring you something.”
I fluffed my pillow and rested my head on it. Why was I so tired? And why did I have to get sick at Christmas when I was already off work? Actually, no. I didn’t have the kind of job where I could afford to take sick leave. Investigations didn’t stop because the person responsible fell ill.
“Try eating some toast,” my mother said, coming back into my room with a tray that had far more on it than toast. Just the scent of the two roses she put in a small vase was turning my stomach. “Can you take these away?” I asked, handing her the flowers.
My mother raised a brow.
