Page 27 of Sully

“Hmm…” he said.

“Hmm, what?”

“Nothing. Just… hmm,” he said, but there was a wicked kind of gleam in his eyes. “Your eyes are looking a little heavy. Want me to leave you alone so you can take a nap?”

“Is there a spare room around here?” I asked. “Or a couch somewhere?”

“Not that you need to know about,” he said. “You’re staying here in my room. For as long as you want or need. There’s plenty of other places for me to crash.”

“I can’t put you out of your room.”

“I’m the reason you had a bomb strapped to your chest today, baby. You can have my kidney if you want it.”

“But—“

“No buts. When we’re staying here, you’re in my room. You got a fully stocked bathroom. A TV with every streaming service known to mankind. Not because I actually watch them all, but because I forgot the passwords for most of the accounts to cancel them. You can even steal some of my clothes to hold you over for the time being. Believe it or not, I do own things other than my fantastic Hawaiian shirt collection.”

“Thank you,” I said, more than a little tempted to steal one of his shirts to wear.

“But you’re also free to leave the room anytime you want. There’s a whole world of fun out there: bar, pool table, poker table, darts, gaming consoles, a kitchen. Even got a hot tub out back. And I’m working on getting an adult playground built.”

“What is an adult playground?”

“I’ll have to show you the plans,” he said. “Maybe over breakfast,” he added, speaking like it was bedtime, even though it was hardly dinner hour.

That said, I was actually exhausted. I always was even after just a small panic attack. This whole ordeal seemed to suck the life out of me.

“Okay,” I agreed, giving him a small smile.

“Call me if you need me, okay? Or wander out if you want. I’ll be close by.”

With that, he was gone.

And I was alone.

Sniffing his pillow to get another hit of that peaches and vanilla scent.

Where I normally tossed and turned, overthinking about what other people might think of as forgettable little embarrassments, in Sully’s bed, I was out cold in moments.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sully

With all of the bomb experts gone and the most street-savvy of us out on the streets to see if any of the dealers had seen our suspect, I found myself puttering around the clubhouse. Restless, but with nothing to do with that energy.

“Come up with anyone?” Fallon asked, making me turn to find him watching me from where I was sitting at the bar, spinning the same beer I’d been nursing for nearly an hour.

I was supposed to be compiling a list of people I’d fucked over, ones who might be holding a grudge.

“I got nothing, man,” I said, shaking my head, suddenly bone-deep tired.

“I mean… Sutton hated your ass,” Fallon reminded me.

“Yeah, but that was childish shit. We’d been kids. I’d been a prick.”

“Yeah, but you were a kid for a long time. All over the country, thanks to your old man’s job. Could you have pissed off a bunch of other people who might be holding a grudge?”

“Oh, but who could hate me?” I asked, feigning a lightness I didn’t feel.

---