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This is completely different, though. I really thought Jackson had changed. I thought we had something real, or at the very least, we were on our way there.
“Can we please just leave? I don’t want to cause a scene at my sister’s wedding.” Actually, I do want to cause a scene, which is why we should leave before I see Jackson’s drunk, cheating face or Davis’s cat-that-ate-the-canary expression again.
“Sure, honey. I’ll just text my brothers and let them know.”
I grab my purse and head out the door with Julia typing away on her phone.
“Where to?” she asks.
“I need to get my shit from the hotel. I’m not going to be there if he stumbles in. Can we go to your house?”
“Of course.”
The ride to the hotel isn’t far and I throw everything in my bags as quickly as possible. I don’t want to be here if he comes back. On our way out to the ranch, I look on my phone for flights that leave tomorrow. Thank God there is one seat left on an eight a.m. flight back to Philly. The sooner I leave Charleston and Jackson behind, the better.
Jackson
Opening my eyes takes so much effort I’m exhausted by the very act alone.Fuck. I didn’t think I drank that much last night, but my memories get fuzzy after the second, maybe third, drink I consumed. Just trying to remember the events from last night has my brain feeling ready to explode out of my head. I close my eyes again, not ready to deal with the pain throbbing behind them. This is unbelievable. I don’t think I’ve ever has a hangover this painful.
Blindly reaching over to feel for Abigail in my hazy hungover state, I come up with nothing except cold sheets. It can’t be that late, considering I feel as though I just fell asleep. Although I don’t know when that would have happened, considering I don’t even remember leaving the wedding reception.
A loud snore sounds from the little living room of the suite. My hellcat snores like a lumberjack after a night of drinking, even though she’ll never admit it, but the one I hear is decidedly masculine. My eyes open again, squinting from the minimal light coming through the blinds. God, I feel like I got hit by a car, a bus, and a train consecutively.
Sitting up, a wave of nausea rolls through me from the movement. Faster than I would think possible in my state, I make a mad dash for the bathroom and empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet. What the hell is going on? Did I eat some bad shrimp or something? I haven’t felt this awful after a night of drinking since I was a teenager and my brother and I raided my father’s scotch.
Barely able to stand on shaky legs, I rinse my mouth out with water and attempt to brush my teeth. It’s slow going getting the toothpaste on the brush, but I finally manage.
I walk back into the room and look at the couch where Colton is sleeping, his large body barely fitting on the small sofa. What the hell?
“Colton,” I say loudly to wake him, my voice practically splitting my head in two.
He jolts up and looks at my disheveled state. “Good, you’re alive.” He runs a hand over his scruffy jaw and shoots me a glare. “I don’t know what the hell happened with you and Abigail last night, but you seriously cockblocked me when I had to come find your drunk ass and get you out of the building before anyone saw.”
Again,what the hell?
I have no idea what could have possibly happened with Abigail last night, considering I can’t remember afuckingthing.
My legs feel as though they’re going to give out under me, and I have to sit on the chair opposite Colton before I collapse.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, thoroughly confused.
“I don’t know, man. I got a text from Julia saying she was leaving with Abigail and you were an asshole. I went to find you and saw you in the hallway, practically drooling on yourself with your shirt half-open. I hauled you out the back and got you to your hotel and into bed.”
That explains why my pants were still on from last night. At least Colton didn’t decide to undress me. I like the guy and all, but I prefer a certain redhead undressing me at the end of the night.
“Where’s Abigail?” I ask. That’s the moment I look around the room and notice all her shoes and girly things aren’t scattered throughout the suite like they were yesterday.
“Julia said they were headed back to our house. When we got back here, all her things were gone.” Colton looks at me with hesitant sympathy. His loyalties lie with Abigail, and I appreciate that. I just wish I had any memory of what I could have possibly done.
“Do you have any idea why she was so angry with you that she left in the middle of her sister’s wedding reception?” Colton asks.
I try to concentrate on the events from last night, at least as much as my pounding head will allow, but come up with nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. The last thing I remember is watching Abigail and Julia on the dance floor and thinking what a lucky bastard I am to have this vivacious woman giving me, of all people, a shot. We started out as pretend. I was just helping her out of a sticky situation with having to go to her sister’s wedding alone. But our trip changed things. And fuck, I was so goddamn happy about it. Then I remember feeling way drunker than I should have. I needed to use the restroom and thought it would be a good idea to make a stop for some water on my way back. The last thing I vaguely remember is walking into an empty bathroom.
“I haven’t the foggiest idea. The last thing I remember is going to the bathroom.” I run my hand through my hair in frustration. “Nothing after that. How the fuck did I get so drunk? And why was I alone in a hallway with my shirt half-undone?” I’m more thinking out loud than hoping for an answer from Colton. Which is probably good, considering he just shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head. No help there, I guess.
“Any idea where my phone is?” I ask, looking around the living room.
“I threw it on the nightstand next to your wallet and key card.”
