“Ugh, just lay it on me.” I swung my legs over the bed and stood. I quickly resumed my seat. “Wow. Stood up too quickly.” Taking a deep breath, I tried again.
“What are you doing?”
“Going home.”
“It’s four in the morning, and you’re not walking home alone, and I’m too comfy to get up.”
I looked around the room and realized what I had mistaken for daylight was his bedside light. “Oh.” Turning, I met his gaze. “I cried all over you?”
“Yeah.” Ash half sat up. “I’m used to women crying over me.”
I smiled at his complete preposterousness. If I could say that, I couldn’t be drunk. “I just said preposter . . . prospertousness . . . prepos—”
“Please, God, make it stop.”
“I said it in my head,” I told him stubbornly.
“I believe you.”
This felt too intimate and awkward. I closed my eyes. “Can I come back to bed?”
“Yes.”
Gently, I got back in, and he covered me up again. “Am I in jammies?”
“Yup.”
“What am I wearing?” I looked down but just saw black.
“My shirt, Quinn’s shorts.”
“Okay.” I closed my eyes. “Is this okay?” I snuggled under the blanket.
“Yeah.”
“Good.” I let out a loud sigh. “How long do I have before one of the twins throws me out?”
“You’re okay here,” Ash said softly. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
Pulling the blanket up higher, I nodded. I didn’t want to talk about it. Not at four in the morning. “I cried myself to sleep, didn’t I?”
“Yup.”
“Did you have a good party?”
“Didn’t go.”
“Because of me?”
“Nah, you give yourself too much credit.”
“Do you hate me?” My voice was a whisper as I lay there in his bed, in his shirt, in his room.
I heard the click, and the light went out. “I don’t hate you, Red,” Ash said quietly as he moved under the covers. “But I really don’t like you when you’re drunk.”
“I wasn’t that drunk,” I protested. “I remembered . . .” He wouldn’t understand my conversation with Quinn after the last time, and I definitely didn’t want to relive the sext conversation, so I shut up. But that didn’t feel right either. I sniffled, but a tear broke free. “I’m sorry. I think it’s just all been too much, and it got on top of me.”
“I get it. You don’t need to apologize,” he murmured. “Try to sleep.”
