“Go home.”
Her mouth paused mid-sentence. As her jaw eased shut, she turned, slipped on her sneakers, grabbed her wet suit, and drifted to the door. “Do you need help?”
As my groggy brain worked to interpret her question, she glanced over her shoulder—hair falling in her deep brown eyes, cheeks painted bronze from hours in the sun.
“If it’s drugs. If it’s not. If you don’t want to tell me, but there’s something I can do. Something you need …”
“I need you to go home.” My gaze drifted to the window and the hint of light from the rising sun pushing its way through the gaps in the blinds.
“I stayed because—”
“You stayed for Jericho.” My attention shifted back to her.
Slowly running a hand through her long, blond hair, her gaze dropped to the floor between us. “I stayed for you,” she murmured just before continuing out the door and down the stairs.
I eased to sitting, letting my feet dangle off the bed, wincing from the pain and too much alcohol—which I needed for the pain. After popping a few pills to make the day bearable, I showered, changed the bandages, and made my way downstairs.
“Traitor.” I eyed Jericho as he hopped up from his bed and followed me into the kitchen where a large cup of coffee and two bags sat on the kitchen counter. The cup had “Wylder” in black marker along with one of the bags. The other bag said “Jerry.” I shouldn’t have touched any of it. I didn’t want her doing shit for me. But I needed the coffee. And once I opened the bag with my name on it and found a fresh bagel, I decided I needed it too.
Easing into a chair, feeling every single bend pulling at my stitches, I watched the concern on Jericho’s face, the twitch of his right eyebrow and the tilt of his head accompanied by a little whine. “She didn’t leave you anything, buddy. Something for some dude named Jerry. Maybe next time she’ll think of you too.”
Next time.
I internally reprimanded myself for thinking that. There wouldn’t be a next time. Livy was trouble, but her timing wasn’t awful. I drained every drop of coffee while eating the bagel and sending off a message.
It’s done.
“Done …” I tossed my phone on the table and rubbed my temples. “A bullet to my shoulder … but fucking done.”
Chapter Nine
Livy
“You slept with him?”
After I delivered breakfast to the boys, I attempted to sneak into the house before my friends awakened. I should have known Mom Aubrey would be up making her green smoothie and updating the chore list for the week.
“Slept?” I yawned before sipping the rest of my tea. “Yes. Literally slept in his bed next to him. He got injured yesterday. That’s why Jericho came to get me. How sweet is that?”
Aubrey eyed me with suspicion. “Sweet. Yeah … um … what kind of injury?”
I shrugged, opening the fridge to look for nothing in particular. It’s possible I sucked at acting casual and natural. “He didn’t actually say. Something with his shoulder. Arm. That area.”
“Out with it.”
I continued to absorb the cool air from the fridge as the heat of her questions licked my back like hot flames. “Out with what?”
“That’s the biggest line of crap. He’s not injured. You had sex with him. Just say it. Who cares? Why are you acting so weird about it?”
Shutting the door, I leaned my back against it. “I didn’t have sex with him.” Narrowing my eyes a bit, I scraped my teeth along my lower lip. “He got shot.”
“Wait … what?” Her hand paused, mid-cut through the celery. Eyes wide.
“I know nothing about it. He was drunk and basically passed out on his bed when I got there.” I stopped short of mentioning he sutured himself up.
“Who? Why? Livy! What happened?” Aubrey dropped the knife and dried her hands, going into full concern mode.
“I don’t know.” That wasn’t a lie. I had no idea what happened, and I felt pretty certain I would never know.
I felt pretty certain I should stay far away from Slade Wylder.
I also felt pretty certain that would never happen.
“Probably a deal gone wrong. I don’t know. Legit.” I offered another shrug because it was the truth.
“Please tell me you’re done with him. The curiosity. The hanging out with his dog. I actually think I should say something to my parents and have them report suspicious activity at his house. This is supposed to be a safe street, not a street where someone comes home with a gunshot wound.”
“Uh …” I lifted an eyebrow. “Sure. Safe. Except for the professor who kidnapped a student and kept her in his creepy dungeon.”
Aubrey rolled her eyes. “Okay, yes. Except for that.”
“I’m going to shower.”
“He’s sexy …” Aubrey said like a question or maybe a warning.
I stopped midway up the stairs. “I’ve seen my fair share of sexy guys … I’ve even dated a few. What’s your point?”
“No point. Just an observation.”
Before she could make any more observations, or anyone else had the chance to wake up and ask me too many questions, I showered and headed to the library to do some research for one of my classes and escape the dizzying events of the previous twenty-four hours.
As I made my way to the far corner of the library with my computer and a few books recommended by my professor for my paper, I halted my steps when Jericho came into view at the feet of my mercurial neighbor. If someone had shot me, I wouldn’t have been at the library the next day. Before I could resume my steps toward the back table by the window, Jericho eyed me and hopped up.
“Down,” Slade said with his back to me, not knowing why his dog wanted to abandon him for someone with a much brighter personality and the best treats in her bag.
Yeah, I quickly learned to always have Jericho treats in my backpack.
When Jericho didn’t respond instantly to his owner’s command, Slade glanced over his shoulder.
I smiled, forcing my feet to continue onward, even with his unreadable gaze tracking my every move making each step feel like trekking through treacherous terrain—a battlefield of nerves. “You should be home, resting,” I said with a shaky vibrato.
That gaze … gah! It shot a million jolts of adrenaline and anticipation racing through my veins.
“Why?” Rather impertinent eyes continued to strip me bare.
At least, it felt intrusive, bold, and intentional.
I swallowed again and again. So much for nervous dry mouth. Nope … everything felt wet in his presence. “I guess we’re pretending last night didn’t happen. Huh?” I deposited my books on the table across from him and rested my bag on the ground as I took a seat.
“Last night?” He squinted.
I could tell from his curious inspection that he wasn’t planning on me inviting myself to sit next to him.
“I don’t know what happened last night…” he tipped his chin to focus on his notepad, left hand scribbling away “…but this morning you were in my bed, half-naked, and wrapped around me.”