“I’m not so sure yet.”
Fletcher chuckles behind me. “I’m gonna grab you some water.”
“Thanks.”
Laney tilts her head at me. “Do you remember how you got here?”
Slowly blinking, I open my eyes further and survey the room. I vaguely remember talking to Fletcher on the phone, but after that, the rest of the night is missing. “Not really.”
Fletcher comes into the living room now, holding a glass of water and a cup of coffee. He passes the glass to me as I slowly sit up, the spinning motion from last night returning with a vengeance. “Well, that’s not surprising considering you had five glasses of straight whiskey last night, or at least that’s what you kept telling me while I drove you back here in your truck.”
Groaning, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “That would explain the headache I have.”
Laney visibly shudders. “I don’t understand how anyone can drink that stuff. Wine or tequila for me. That’s it.”
My stomach twists at the mention of more alcohol. “Please don’t talk about booze right now.”
Fletcher and Laney share a laugh at my expense. I take a sip of the water, making sure it’s going to stay down, before drinking about half of the glass. “God, my mouth tastes like ass.”
“Should I ask how you know what that tastes like?” Laney teases.
I shake my head and lean back against the couch cushions, sighing. “Please don’t make me process any sarcasm right now.”
Laney leans over and kisses Fletcher on the lips. “I’ll leave you two to talk. Glad you called us, Henley…but maybe you should figure out what made you get so shitfaced last night in the first place, yeah?”
With one open eye, I glare at her as she leaves the room and Fletcher takes a seat on the couch opposite me.
“So, do you remember anything else from last night?”
“Is this a hypothetical question, or are you genuinely asking me?”
“I just want to know if you remember everything you told me.”
I close my eyes and groan. “Fuck. Do I even want to know?”
Fletcher grins. “I thought it was quite interesting.”
“Jesus.”
Leaning back in his corner of the couch, he studies me. “Let’s just say, Rhonan was right to be concerned about how you feel about Elodie.”
My shoulders slump with defeat as I close my eyes and sigh. I had every intention of taking a woman out to my truck and slipping back into my normal routine last night, and the blonde that almost blew me in the parking lot appears in my memory at that moment. But feeling her touch me, hearing her voice tell me how much she wanted me—it was all wrong.
Longing for one woman has never happened to me before, and I sure as fuck am not handling it well.
“She was singing to Remy last night,” I say, my voice low in case Laney is trying to over hear us. “When I came out of my room, prepared to sit around and wait for Warren to pick me up, she was sitting there with her guitar in her lap and singing to my daughter.” I lift my eyes to meet Fletcher’s. “And I wanted to take a picture of them.”
“Okay…”
“Fuck, don’t you get it?” I point a finger at my chest. “I don’t do that shit. I don’t want to take picturesofwomen,withwomen, or care enough about thesamewoman to want to remember her.”
Fletcher twists his lips. “So what did you do?”
“I left as soon as I could. I had to get the fuck out of my own house.”
“Seems like you’re running again, just like you did in your past,” Fletcher says, making my blood pressure rise.
“Don’t tell me about my past, all right? I just needed some space.”
