“Oh, Storm’s here, too.” Monroe looks at Linc, but he’s so gone that he may as well be looking straight through him.
“Jesus,” Rett mutters.
“Oh, don’t you look at me like that, Everett Donnelly,” Monroe chastises. “I’ve seen more than a few photos of you on a night out. This,” he says, gesturing to himself, “is nothing. I’m just enjoying myself. We won, boys. We’re top of the motherfucking conference.”
Kodie and I share a look before he nods and pushes to his feet. I do the same.
“We’re going to take you home and tuck you in,” I say, prying the beer from Monroe’s hand and placing it on the table.
“But the night is still young,” he complains.
“Thankfully, so are you, so this shouldn’t hurt too much in the morning,” Kodie teases as he throws his arm around Monroe’s shoulders and steers him toward the exit.
“If you see Killer, tell him I left,” I say to Rett.
“Last time I saw him, he was dry-fucking some bunny on the dance floor.”
“Color me shocked,” I mutter. “Why aren’t you doing the same thing?”
“Give me time,” he says with a wink before I turn to catch up with Kodie and Monroe.
“If you’re going to vomit, do it now,” Kodie instructs as an Uber pulls up outside the club.
“I’m fine,” Monroe insists.
“If you spew, we’re giving the driver your credit card.”
“I’m not gonna spew.”
“Uh-huh,” Kodie mutters as he shoves Monroe into the back of the car.
The driver turns to look, and he’s about to argue about his drunken passenger until realization spreads across his face.
“Holy shit,” he gasps. “Great game tonight.”
“Thanks, man,” I say as I pile in. “We promise he’ll be good. And if he’s not, he’ll pay for it.”
The guy understandably hesitates. No one wants a car that stinks of vomit.
“Seriously?” Kodie gasps, making me look over.
I bark out a laugh at the sight of Monroe resting on Kodie’s shoulder, fast asleep and drooling.
“Aw, look. Big D got himself a new baby to look after,” I tease as I pull my cell out and snap a photo.
“You can fuck right off.”
I snigger as Kodie glares at Monroe. At no point does he try to wake him or move him, though. Underneath Kodie’s grumpy exterior is a heart of gold.
“Marilyn, wake the fuck up,” he finally demands as we pull up outside our hotel.
“I’ll be there in a minute, Dad,” Monroe mumbles.
“Oh, for the love of God,” Kodie grunts before he drags Monroe out of the car.
“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” Monroe complains as he suddenly wakes up.
“Thanks, man. Appreciate it,” I say to the driver, slipping him a hefty tip.
