There was a litany of swear words on the other end of the call followed by a heavy sigh. “The problem with you is that you never know how far is too far. Give your phone to the driver.”
I snorted. “Why are you so bossy tonight? You sound just like Mom.”
“Hand the phone over. Now.” There was no room for argument in his tone.
Not wanting to fight with my brother, and starting to feel sleepy because I really wasn’t supposed to mix my meds and alcohol, I handed my phone to the driver after muttering that my brother wanted to talk to him. While I was in the bar, surrounded by friends and dancing my butt off, I couldn’t feel the effects of the few cocktails I’d had. Sure, I was a bit buzzed, but now that it was just me in the back of a stranger’s car, trusting him to get me home safe and sound while my eyes got heavy and my head started to feel fuzzier and fuzzier, I realized I may have indulged more than I should’ve. It was so hard to always be hyper-aware that any little thing could alter the chemistry inside my brain and switch me from okay to very not okay in a matter of minutes. Usually, I didn’t mind the maintenance I knew I required, but lately, putting in the work to make sure I remained well felt overwhelming, and I resented the hell out of it. Which was dangerous. Very dangerous.
At some point, between handing my phone off to the driver and arriving at my destination, I must’ve drifted off. It was ridiculously stupid and dangerous. I could’ve been abducted, attacked, or worse. I wouldn’t have woken up if the door to the car hadn’t been yanked open by a very angry Hyde Fuller.
The driver handed me my phone back with a shrug. “Your brother told me to bring you here, and he tipped me a fortune for changing the drop-off point.”
I gulped and clutched my phone with a suddenly clammy hand. “He’s not my brother.”
I yelped as I was pulled out of the car by my wrist. I wobbled because I was wearing heels, and because I still had a potent blend of booze and pills swirling in my bloodstream. I slammed into Hyde’s chest and collided with hard muscle. He was thin but still well-built, and just as warm as I remembered from the days I used to hug him whenever and wherever I wanted.
Hyde slammed the door shut and pulled me out of the way as the driver left. He glared after the car while muttering under his breath, “You need to report that guy in the morning. He shouldn’t have changed your destination with the promise of a big tip. Who knows where you would’ve ended up if you accidentally called someone else thinking they were Zowen?”
Stumbling over my own feet as he started to tug me toward the front of his house, I fumbled with my phone and nearly screamed when I saw that I did indeed hit the first number on my call log without thinking about who the last person I talked to was. It was usually either Zowen, Daire, or Bowe. It never occurred to me that Hyde would be back in the mix after his late-night call. It also explained the bossy demands and overt questions about my ability to handle myself. Zowen could be overprotective, but he didn’t usually cast doubt on my judgment.
“Goddamnit. I can’t believe I drunk-dialed you instead of my brother. I’m an idiot.” Hyde caught me again as I almost fell off the front steps of the entryway to his house. I frowned and shook his hold off my arm. “Why did you bring me here instead of letting him take me to my own house?”
Hyde swore and reached past me to shove open the front door. “Because he told me you looked like you were going to pass out, and I didn’t want him taking you to God knows where while you were unconscious. I wanted him to know you had someone waiting for you. Do you do this a lot? Party and then pass out on your way home?”
I huffed out an annoyed sound and bent down to unbuckle the ankle straps of my shoes. I needed to take them off before I fell on my face and made an even bigger fool of myself in front of him. Once I had the heels in my hand, I looked up to meet his concerned green gaze with a guarded one of my own.
“I don’t think it’s any of your business what I do or don’t do. I appreciate you trying to look out for me, but just like I told you when I thought you were my brother, I know my limits. I don’t need a watchdog.” My hair was pulled up on the sides and swept away from my face, which meant I didn’t have the loose curls to play with when I was nervous. If I reached up and touched my hair now, Hyde would know I was fidgeting and desperate to extract myself from the situation. “You go ahead and check on the baby. I’m going to call another car to get me home. I won’t fall asleep this time.” And this was a good lesson to learn. Maybe next time I decided to ignore warning labels and common sense, I should make sure I had a babysitter and a trusted way to get home.
There was no way I was going to drift off again. I felt more awake and alert than ever.
Hyde gave me a hard look, and I could tell he was fighting the urge to demand that I stay put. It was progress that he didn’t. Maybe he knew that the harder he tried to get me to do something, the more I would resist. That was something that hadn’t changed very much since we were young.
“It’s late, and you’ve been drinking. I think it’s a better idea that you stay here or find someone to give you a ride to your place. I would take you myself,” he paused and made a face like he was still adjusting to the fact he was always going to have to put his daughter before everything from here on out, “but I can’t do that with the baby.”
He pushed open the front door in a clear invitation, but in no way forced me to follow him inside.
I stood at the entryway beating myself up for getting into this situation in the first place. I shouldn’t have tempted fate and pressed my unpredictable luck. I shouldn’t have answered the call from the unknown number. I shouldn’t have gone drinking when I was already feeling significant pressure to hold myself together. I smacked my forehead with my phone and begrudgingly took the first few steps into Hyde’s new home.
“I’m not staying because you want me to, just so you know. I’m staying because my feet hurt, and I don’t want to put these shoes back on.” I wouldn’t feel good about myself if I made him worry all night. He already looked like he was short on sleep if the dark circles under his pretty eyes were any indication. I could be stubborn and problematic, but I never went out of my way to hurt someone else if it could be avoided.
And the truth was, I owed the guy a lot.
If it hadn’t been for Hyde, there was no telling if I would have survived my teenage years. He would come without question anytime I called him for rescue. It didn’t matter if I was drunk and needed a ride, or if I was upset because I’d fought with my friends, or if I ran away from home in a huff because I was mad at my parents, or if I was stuck on the roof of an abandoned factory that I climbed onto because of a dare. Hyde always showed up when I needed him. He kept me from getting hurt, and stopped me from hurting anyone else. I owed him, and that meant I could sleep on the couch for one night so he didn’t have to stay up all night being anxious over my whereabouts. It wouldn’t kill me.
The lights flickered on as I closed the door with a soft click. At first glance, it was easy to tell that someone with a far more sophisticated design eye than a twenty-eight-year-old bachelor who lived in on-base housing for the past eight years had decorated the house. It was probably his mom. Sayer Fuller had sophisticated taste, but she was also a bit quirky. I was pretty sure she was behind the high-end finishing, as well as the bright yellow couch that dominated the living room. It was cheery and fun and would totally work as a temporary bed.