I give him a final shove and then twist on my heel.
“Let’s go,” I tell Blake, but she can barely take two steps before stumbling.
When I try to steady her, she bats my hand away.
“I can walk,” she objects.
The last semblance of patience abandons me. “Nope. We’re not doing this.”
Before she can argue, I scoop her up into my arms.
“Wyatt!”
“Shut up,” I grind out. “We’re done talking right now.”
I stalk forward, and her hands instinctively clamp around my neck, holding on tight. She doesn’t fight me, though. She tucks her face against my shoulder and lets me carry her to the Jeep.
Chapter 19
BLAKE
IT’S NOT EVEN MIDNIGHT WHEN I emerge from the shower after letting the icy-cold spray beat down on my head for more than twenty minutes. I don’t know if this is common to all absinthe partakers, but that green shit turned my body into a furnace. I’ve never gotten so overheated drinking alcohol before. Or that wasted. Even now, hours later, I still feel a lingering buzz in my veins. Still a bit unsteady on my feet as I wrap myself in a short white bathrobe.
I’m startled to find Wyatt in the hall, leaning against his closed bedroom room.
“Have you been waiting out here the whole time?”
“Yeah,” he says gruffly. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t slip in there and crack your head open.”
“That’s…very sweet. Thank you.”
He gives me a thorough once-over. “You seem more alert. You feeling better?”
“Oh my God, yes. My head is so much clearer. The cold shower helped.” Along with the bottle of water he made me chug and the twoibuprofen he made me swallow before we barely even walked through the front door.
“Good.” He pushes away from the wall. “I’m going out for a smoke. G’night.”
“Night,” I murmur to his retreating back.
I go to my room and put on my pj’s, but that shower was too successful at waking me up. Rather than climbing into bed, I roll on a pair of warm socks and head outside. It’s cooler out than I expect, so I grab the throw blanket off the deck chair and wrap it around myself on my way to the stairs.
When I step onto the dock, Wyatt smiles at the sight of me all bundled up. Then he takes a quick drag of his cigarette before exhaling a puff of smoke into the night.
I wrap the blanket tighter around my shoulders and stretch out on the lounge chair next to his. “How was your date?” I ask reluctantly.
“Short.”
I bite my lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin it.”
“You didn’t.” He blows out another smoke cloud. “I mean, okay, yeah, you did. But I was about to cut it short anyway.”
I ignore the traitorous flipping of my heart. “How come?”
“Wasn’t into it.” He glances over at me. “How was your night? Before the absinthe?”
“Shitty. Isaac accused me of wanting to get back together and using Hot Boi as my excuse.”
“Any truth to that?”
