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Draven nodded, marching forward to block Jake from my view.
“Yes, sir?”
I spun back toward the table and began to write down the instructions on a page, Draven watching me cautiously as I did. I liked him. He didn’t ask unnecessary questions, even when I handed him the page and he scanned the paper. If he didn’t like the task, he made no indication on his face.
“Problem?” I asked.
“No, sir. Should I deliver that tonight?”
I glanced at the time and shook my head, thinking.
“Do it tomorrow,” I told him. “In the evening… around five.”
That would be the time that Abby seemed to come home from her deliveries. If she wouldn’t see me, maybe she needed a reminder of how things had been before Orson had come between us, before I’d made the mistake of rejecting her.
And while Draven was taking care of that for me, I could focus on bringing some order back to my territory and a semblance of class back to the Verity Gang.
Chapter25
Abby
Aterrible pain ricocheted through my entire body as I opened my eyes, light piercing through my skull.
“Oh!” I groaned, rolling to my side. Instantly, I fell off the couch and onto the floor, my head hitting the ground to further enhance the hangover. “Fuck!”
The sound of my own voice made things a thousand times worse, and bile filled my throat. I choked back the nausea and fought to stand, struggling against the dizziness as I centered myself.
The empty bottle of Slush lay on the floor next to the askew coffee table, all the decorative cushions from the sofa on the floor.
How much did we drink last night?
I didn’t even remember Etta and Orson leaving, nor what we had talked about after the second half of the bottle had been poured.
It took me several seconds to realize that the knocking on the front door was not coming from my head, and I moaned again as I stumbled to answer it, discombobulated.
Orson stood on the step, shaking his head.
“Yeah, I figured you’d be in rough shape today,” he chuckled, his eyes tearing over me like they always did.
Pursing my mouth together, I stepped back, feeling very vulnerable despite being fully dressed in yesterday’s clothing.
“Come on. You’re with me today,” he said.
“What?” I blinked and rubbed my eyes, fighting to make sense of my surroundings.
I was still drunk, my body rejecting any potential for healing in that moment.
“I handed your deliveries off to Maisie today. I need your help with something else.”
Slowly, a soberness began to sink over me.
“Okay,” I agreed. “Just give me a minute to get ready.”
“Need a hand getting dressed?” he joked, but his eye blazed as he begged me to say yes.
I couldn’t even manage a fake smile and instead closed the door before I keeled over. Pausing to catch my breath, I leaned over, hands on my knees, and steeled myself for what was upcoming. It wasn’t the first time Orson had strayed from the usual schedule, but somehow, this felt off, probably because I was feeling so off. The stress of Elijah being nearby, the liquor still coursing through my veins—it all put me in a paranoid state.
But when I finally pulled myself together and joined Orson in his truck in the front of the house, he didn’t give me any indication that anything was wrong.
