Page 62 of Tragic (Lark Cove 3)

But at thirty-three years old, my body didn’t recover as quickly. The last time I’d been drunk, my headache had lasted for days.

My stomach rolled as I sat up and took a deep breath. I was still wearing my clothes from yesterday, but at least I’d kicked off my boots.

I looked around the room for some water, but all I found were three empty glasses on the nightstand. Something had died in my mouth, and my throat was screaming for a drink. When I stood, I fought a dizzying wave but managed to stumble my way to the bedroom door.

I yanked it open and was immediately hit with a smell that nearly sent my ass to the floor.

Cinnamon rolls.

Mom used to make us cinnamon rolls on the weekends when she wasn’t working. I hadn’t eaten one in over three years. And since Mom didn’t know where I lived, there could only be one person who’d brought that smell into my house. Piper.

I shuffled down the hallway to the kitchen. Under the smell of cinnamon, sugar and yeast, I caught a hint of bleach as I passed by the bathroom. I ignored it. First thing on the docket was drinking a gallon of water. Then I’d find out what Piper was doing in my kitchen.

Given my rumpled clothes, I doubted we’d had sex. Though it wasn’t impossible. My brain was still too fuzzy to remember everything that had happened last night.

The light in the kitchen and living room was blinding. I groaned as I entered the main room, taking a break to lean on the fridge so I wouldn’t pass out from the pain behind my temples.

“Morning.” Piper was propped up against the counter with her phone in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other.

“Got any more of that coffee?” My voice was hoarse and using it made my head throb even more.

She nodded, setting her mug aside to get me one of my own and fill it from the coffee pot in the corner.

I pushed off the fridge and stumbled toward the dining room table. I collapsed into a chair, rocking the legs a bit. Piper delivered my coffee and took the seat across from me.

I grunted my thanks before taking a first sip. The coffee scalded my tongue, so I set it down to cool. Then, with my elbows digging into the table, I propped my aching head into my hands.

“Are you going to live?” Piper asked.

“Maybe,” I muttered, closing my eyes. ?

?I just need a few minutes.”

I kept my eyes closed as she stood and walked across the room. The unmistakable rattle of a pill bottle filled the kitchen, and at that moment, I would have married her.

She brought me some pain pills and a tall glass of water, setting them on the table before returning to her seat.

I forced my eyes open, popping the pills in my mouth and gulping the water. I still felt like shit. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

I went back to my coffee, leaning back in my chair as I sipped it slowly. When that cup was empty, Piper got up and filled it for me along with my water. By the time I’d made it through my refills, I was nearly human again.

“Thanks for the coffee. And the water.”

She shrugged. “Technically, it was your coffee and water.”

“Still appreciated.” My eyes wandered around the kitchen. “You cleaned?”

“Just a little,” she spoke into her own cup.

It was more than a little. The dishes that had been piling up for two weeks were all cleared away. The counters were gleaming and the smell from the garbage can—the one that had driven me to the shop for countless long days—was now gone.

“I made cinnamon rolls.” Piper smiled. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Yup. They smell great.” I took another sip of my coffee, the ache behind my temples beginning to fade. “How long have you been here?”

“Since about five. After you passed out, I went home but couldn’t sleep much. So I came over to make sure you were alive.”