Page 83 of The Runaway and the Rugged
“Promise?” She yawned while nestling deep into the pillow with fluttering eyelids.
It was impossible to say no to her.
“Promise.”
Light snoring soon filled the air and I took the opportunity to push back a flyaway strand of hair on her forehead. The movement was slow and tender, and when I finally summoned the strength to pull away, I quietly left the room, leaving her door cracked.
25
EMELIA
Gripping the rim of the toilet bowl, I was severely regretting my choices last night. A never-ending stream of barf and whatever else was in my stomach continued to assault Garth’s clean, pristine bathroom as my head pounded like a relentless beat.
I couldn’t remember how much I had to drink. After the fourth, everything became a hazy cloud of confusion with only fleeting glimpses of what happened last night flickering through the mist. Something must have happened for me to be in Garth’s home. What that was, I’m not so sure I wanted to find out.
After I felt like I had cleansed my entire stomach of the poison, I rinsed my mouth for the next ten minutes before stumbling out of the bathroom and into the hallway.
“Emelia?” The familiar, soft, Southern twang of Grace sounded from the end of the hallway, where she was just walking out of her room.
My head pulsed.
“Yeah, it’s me. Hi, Grace.” I winced, my throat dry and raspy as I spoke.
I’m sure I looked like I had just been run over by a truck.
“I didn’t know you stayed the night.” She padded over to where I stood, her hair and bangs adorably messy from just rolling out of bed. “Are you feelin’ okay?”
I’ve never felt so queasy in my life and my pounding head needed serious pills, but instead, I forced myself to lie and nodded.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Your aunt Greta and I just had a long night out.”
Speaking of Greta, where the hell is she?
“Yeah, I overheard Dad this morning in the hallway. He didn’t seem too happy with Aunt Greta.”
“What did he say?” My stomach lurched as I asked.
“That he doesn’t understand why she had to drink so much and then mentioned something about you.”
Wonderful.
“And that’s all you heard?”
She nodded.
“Some of it was hard to make out, but you don’t have to worry so much, my dad isn’t mad at you.” She smiled reassuringly, but I had a hard time believing it. He had to pick both Greta and me up from the bar, and I couldn’t for the life of me remember why until a flash of remembrance hit me. Messaging him from Greta’s phone. Sending him a video of me getting lifted onto a table… Oh hell.
My throat tightened with the realization that I was the reason Garth came to the bar last night.
“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to get sick.” She eyed me cautiously, like at any second I was about to blow chunks.
I was beginning to feel like I might.
“Yeah.” I forced myself to nod, swallowing the massive lump lodged in my throat. “Yeah, I’m okay. Do you… Do you happen to have a phone I could use?”
I couldn’t believe I was asking Grace, a twelve-year-old, if she had a cellphone. Even she knew that was strange from the arched brow and confused glance she shot my way.
“Do you not have a phone?”
