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“What did you take?”
She shook her head. “N—nothing.”
“Liar. You’re trippin’. What did you take?” I asked again.
“N—no. Panic a—attack,” she muttered. “I’ll be f—fine. Just leave me p—please.”
Fuck.
I had never had one, but Saint had, and it looked terrible.
I went to my dresser and popped open the small brown box sitting on top. Pulling out a bottle of Zany’s, I dropped one in my palm and moved over to her.
“Here. Chew this up.”
“W … what is it?”
“Something that will make you feel better.”
“I d—don’t trust you.”
It made sense.
I wasn’t trustworthy.
“Fine. Lay there and shake to death for all I care.” I started to turn away, but she grabbed my hand and stopped me.
Snatching the pill from my palm, she tossed it into her mouth, chewing violently in a rush to take away the panic she was feeling. She continued to shake for a few more minutes before finally, she began to relax.
“Better?”
She nodded, her breathing still hard and rushed. Her face was flushed, her hair sticking to her cheeks. Her pulse was banging against the side of her neck as if it were trying to be set free. It didn’t look like a fun situation to be in.
She looked away from me, embarrassed by what I had seen, and I knew she needed a minute alone.
“Okay, you can chill in here for a bit before you go back out, but don’t go through my shit.”
“I didn’t know this was your room. I won’t touch anything. I’m not likesomepeople. Just give me a few minutes to pull myself together.”
Some people, as in me and the boys and how we fucked up and destroyed her father’s urn.
She was right.
I had no right to ask her not to fuck with my shit, but I hoped she knew better than to do it anyway.
I left her there, closing the door behind me and going back to the card game. Getting caught up in winning and fucking around with my boys, I didn’t even notice the time. An hour had passed, and she still hadn’t come out of the room. When I went into my bedroom, I found her snoring softly on my bed.
Fuck.
I hated sleeping on the couch.
11 Everly
I WOKE THE NEXT MORNINGin a strange bed. The mattress was soft and comfortable, and the blanket smelled masculine and clean. The room was dim, and even though there wasn’t much on the walls, the place felt warm and welcoming.
Then I remembered where I was. My head ached when I sat up too quickly, and I rubbed at my forehead, hoping to soothe the pain. My stomach growled with hunger, but it wasn’t nearly as unbearable as my need to get to a bathroom.
I crept from the room into a silent hallway. Then I tiptoed to the bathroom door only to find it locked with the sound of the shower running inside. Turning, I found the entrance to the master bedroom. The door was cracked, but I could see the bathroom from where I was standing. The door creaked when I pushed on it, and I peeked inside to make sure the room was empty.
