Traffic was light and she got home quickly. Pulling into her driveway, she curbed her disappointment when she saw Mac hadn’t arrived yet. She thought back, remembering him say he was spending the night at his apartment. She didn’t know if that meant weeding through his things and then coming back to her or staying overnight.
Once she got inside, she texted him. After several minutes, he hadn’t replied. It was getting late. He might already be on his way home and missed the text or if he was as tired as she was, he might have crashed at his apartment. She got ready for bed and hoped he would come home to her. Jax snuggled next to her, his warm body pressed close. Keely texted one more time and when he didn’t respond, she drifted off, hoping Mac would be beside her when she awoke.
CHAPTER 19
Mac swallowed, his tongue thick and dry, as if he’d spent hours licking a wool blanket. He looked around, having no idea where he might be. He tried to think and found his thoughts muddled, scenes jumbled together, racing until they blurred. He blinked, trying to clear them away. Glancing around the room again, he realized he was in his apartment. How did he get here? When he’d gone to bed, he was in Vancouver. They’d gone on location. More images rushed at him. No, they’d finished filming. Maybe.
He lifted a hand and touched his pounding head. Licking his lips, he caught a faint taste of beer. Was he hungover? He never drank much but he felt as if he jumped from a six-story building and splatted on the pavement.
Keely . . .
Mac felt around the bed and then nightstand, searching for his phone. It wasn’t anywhere near. He needed help.
A door slammed next door. The paper-thin walls let him know Rocco Salvatini was home. Weakly, Mac lifted his hand and made a fist before rapping on the wall.
“Rocco, you there?” he called hoarsely, as loud as he could.
“Yeah, Mac.”
“Come over.”
“Okay.”
He waited and heard noise at the front door. His head told him to push off the bed but his legs disagreed. After a minute, he heard a key turning the lock and Rocco trudging down the hallway to the bedroom.
From the doorway, he heard a grunt and as his neighbor came closer, he said, “Dude, you look so wasted.”
Mac pushed himself to a sitting position, ignoring the nausea that flared. Keeping his eyes closed, he asked, “When did I show up here?”
“Early last night. Looking around, I guess you’re packing to leave.”
“Packing,” Mac echoed. That sounded familiar. An image of shoving things into his duffel bag came and went.
“Find my phone.”
He heard a tapping and then his phone chimed from the other room. Rocco must have texted him to locate the cell.
“Here it is.”
“No.” Mac pushed it away. “Check the texts. From Keely.” Maybe that would give him a clue.
Rocco took Mac’s hand and pressed his thumb to unlock the phone.
“Yeah, she sent a few last night. Wondering if you’re coming home. Tired and she’s going to bed. See you in the morning. Then another couple this morning. ‘Where are you?’—in caps—and then just a line with question marks. Dude, you better call her and make it right. I saw where you got engaged. You do not want to screw this up, Mac.”
“Text her back,” he said. “Tell her . . . tell her they’re picking up the rented furniture and I’m waiting.”
“Okay.”
Mac heard clicking.
“It’s sent. I also told her your phone died and you’d left it at your neighbor’s to charge overnight since you didn’t have a charger here. That’s why you didn’t see her texts. Maybe that’ll keep you outta the dog house.”
“Good,” he muttered.
A moment later, Keely responded. Rocco said, “She’s glad you’re okay. Will see you when you’re done.”
“Can you call the rental place and get them to come? Stay here and wait?”
“Sure. Let me get my laptop. I can work over here. Stay with you while you . . . recover.”
“Do you have any energy drinks?”
“Red Bull.”
“Bring a couple.”
Mac waited a few minutes and then Rocco returned, pressing a cold can into his hand. He forced his eyes to remain open and downed the entire drink.
“Help me into the shower. Keep the water on cold.”
Rocco got him to his feet and led him into the bathroom. The water came on and Rocco eased him inside. Mac started to say he needed to take his clothes off but he saw he was already naked.
The icy water pelted him, jolting him more awake. His limbs still seemed sluggish but he was starting to become himself. Mac finally turned off the faucet and took the towel Rocco handed him.
“Let me get you some clothes.”
He toweled off and sat on the toilet. His neighbor returned with clothes and the second can. Mac drank all of it and then stood, dressing shakily. He noticed a condom wrapper on the bedroom floor and wondered how it had gotten there.
They went to the living room and Rocco said, “You were seriously messed up. Worst hangover I ever saw. What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Mac said. “The last thing I remember is being in Vancouver. And now I’m here.” He sighed and looked around. “I must’ve been packing up to move to Keely’s.”
“Yeah, the manager told me you’d given notice.”
“Big favor to ask. Would you load that duffle and suitcase into my car? And the clothes on the hangers in the closet? Besides the furniture, everything else is yours.”
“Everything?”
“Yeah. Dishes, linens, food. Whatever you want. Except my iron skillet.”
“You’re on.” Rocco stood. “First trip.” He glanced around and picked up Mac’s keys on the counter. “Stay here.”
The caffeine simmered within him. The fog began to lift. His cell rang. Rocco must’ve brought it to the living room because it was sitting on the coffee table. Mac reached and saw an unknown number on the screen. He never answered those. He’d already changed his phone number after landing the Thorne Mayfield role and had a limited contact list. If the caller didn’t leave a voicemail, he’d block the number.
The ringing ceased and moments later, the chime sounded again. He stared at the phone in his hand. Rocco returned for a second load and left the apartment again. Mac decided to listen to the voicemail.
“Better check your text messages.”
That was it?
Mac opened his app and saw a text message from the same unknown number. He touched it and a series of photos appeared. Clicking on the first one, he stared in horror.
It was him. Naked. With a woman he didn’t recognize.
The graphic images turned his stomach. They were kissing. Touching. She sat astride him.
Mac had no idea who she was. No memory of any of this. The woman kept her back to the camera most of the time. In a few shots, you couldn’t see her profile because she leaned over him and her hair obstructed her face. It would be impossible to identify her. Even if she walked in the door right now, he wouldn’t recognize her because he had no recollection of her being here.
Rocco entered again. “Last trip,” he said cheerfully, hurrying to Mac’s bedroom and emerging with an armful of clothes on hangers.