Page 67 of Hold Me Until Morning

“I’m okay.” I was barely able to say it, and I was suddenly thankful she had an arm around me to keep me steady when Cody shifted and took two steps in my direction.

His bottom lip had a small cut, and a droplet of blood was already drying into a scab. Every line of his face was riddled with ferocity, with an apology, with the truth that he didn’t regret it all except for the worry that he might have hurt me in some way.

Ezra dragged the drunk guy onto his feet and pushed him through the crowd, and the band struck back up and people hit the dance floor like this was a routine event, which I supposed in a bar like this it probably was.

People getting unruly and rowdy.

Alcohol suppressing inhibitions.

In my experience, it was always when true personalities came out, usually amplified, good or bad.

But nothing about this felt routine to me.

It felt like a shift.

A crack right down the middle.

“Get out of here, Cody.” Ryder repeated what Ezra had instructed, though it was urgent with a warning.

I stood surrounded by my new friends, flanked by Dakota and Savannah, and Paisley’s arm was still solidly hooked on my waist as the crowd moved around us like we weren’t standing still in the middle of them.

Cody’s attention slanted to me.

That apology grew deeper.

Severe.

Stark.

Before he shook his head like he’d come to some conclusion, like he’d suddenly seen himself as the problem, and he turned away from us and started to carve himself through the disorder that roiled on the floor.

“I’ll get you home,” Paisley told me, just as Ryder roughed a frustrated hand over his face and said, “I’m going to go check on him.”

I swallowed around the thickness in my throat. “No, let me.”

A frown cut into Paisley’s brow. “Are you sure? He’s a lot when he’s upset. You might want to let him cool down.”

“I’ll be fine,” I promised.

In reluctance, she wavered, before she dipped her chin. “Text me later?”

“I will.”

“Okay.”

I weaved through the crowd, heading in the same direction Cody had gone.

Through the toiling bodies that writhed on the dance floor and the groups who’d grown thick around the tables.

I kept weaving through, following the wake of heat.

I pushed out the main door and into the summer night.

The deafening volume coming from the bar was cut in half the second the door clanged shut behind me.

A few people dotted the packed parking lot, their voices distant but distinct with the quiet that echoed in the air.

My attention drifted to the right, to the bluster of energy that pulsed, heavy and hot.

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