Page 9 of Redeeming

“Yeah. Me too. How was your night?” When I don’t answer, she reaches over me to grab the remote and pausesThe Notebook. “Caitlin... what did you do?”

“You can’t tell anyone, Bellamy. No one. You understand? Not one of your brothers. Not one of the girls. No one...” I trail off, too exhausted to bother coming up with a forced threat I’d have no need to follow through on because my bestie would never tell a soul anything I wanted kept between us. Bellamy Wilder is awesome. Everyone should have a friend like her in their life.

“Well, don’t leave me hanging. Oh. My. God. Caitlin Beneventi—did you and Callenfinallygive in?”

I drag my white comforter up over my head, only for her to pull it down. “You didn’t,” she gasps, shocked.

“No,” I squeak. “We didn’t.”

“Then what aren’t you telling me?” she demands, and my stomach takes a nose dive.

“Cone of silence, Bellamy. Swear it.”

She glares back before slowly flicking me. “Really?”

“Fine.” I’d roll my eyes if I weren’t worried the motion would make me throw up. I hate hangovers. “I was really drunk and might have made Callen carry me upstairs.”

“Caitlin.” She smacks me as her shoulders shake with quiet laughter.

“Hey,” I flick her back. “Stop hitting me.”

“You made him carry you?” Her giggles grow, and now my hangover isn’t the only thing making me want to die... Okay—maybe just a teeny bit. I bite down on my lip and don’t answer. “Caitlin... what else happened?”

I contemplate not telling her for a hot second, but I need to tell someone. I’m good at a lot of things. Dealing with men isn’t exactly one of them. They tend to get scared away by my bodyguard or my father. “I kinda stripped in front of him.”

She tries to smack me again, but I catch her wrist this time.

Guess my reflexes aren’t totally shot.

“Either you stripped or you didn’t, Cait.”

“Fine.Yes. I untied my dress and stood there as it fell to the floor in my pink, lace thong and nothing else,” I admit while secondhand embarrassment washes over meagain.

Wait... is it secondhand if it happened to me the first time?

Shit.

Maybe I’m not hungover. Maybe I’m still drunk.

“Good lord, woman. Are you going to make me work for every damn detail? What the hell happened next?”

“He stripped out of his shirt, basically forced it over my body, then shoved me into the bathroom before he put me to bed.” A niggling of something scratches at my brain just beyond my memory, but I can’t put my finger on it.

Bellamy’s eyes are alight with frustration. “Alone?”

I nod.

“Then this morning, I managed to call him a manwhore instead of thanking him for his help.”

“Oh shit,” she whispers, and I echo the sentiment. “What are you going to do?”

I blink. “I’ve got nothing...” I rest my head on the pillow next to hers and lie on my back. “You want to tell me what to do?”

She leans her head against mine, and I groan.

Yup. Hair still hurts.

“I’d start with an apology and go from there. It’ll just be the two of you tonight. I’m going in at six and working a double.”

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