Page 30 of Bound by Vengeance
My attention goes back to Ryker. “Fine, Daddddd.”
His nostrils flare as he steps into my space. “Lotta things I am to you, Austyn, but Dad isn’t one of them. Let’s go.” He grabs my arm, not hard but firmly, and pulls me next to him. “Emery, you comin’?”
“Nope. I’m stayin’ here tonight.”
“Traitor,” I tell her.
She smiles, giving me a wave. “Have fun!”
I look up to Ryker. “Ya know, you can just go back to your woman friend, and I can sleep in my father’s room.” My words come out a bit more slurred than I want. Guess those last shots are doing me in.
“No,” is all he says as he leads me to the car while I give sloppy waves to a couple of people as I’m escorted away.
He opens the door, and I climb in, resting my head against the headrest.
“Buckle up,” he orders after he climbs in.
I huff. He’s so acting like my father it’s not even funny. Ordering me. Making me stop drinking. Being all demanding. But something in my foggy head is telling me not to call him my dad again.
Pulling the belt, I latch it after a few failed attempts because the damn thing keeps moving, or maybe it’s me.
The ride home is quiet. Ryker peers over at me several times like I’m going to go poof in a ball of smoke and disappear like some magician on crack. I touch my body. Nope, still here. I let a chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“I’m just imagining I’m a magician and going to go up in a puff of smoke.” I throw my arms out wide. “Poof!”
He throws his head back and laughs deeply, a sound I do love to hear. It gets my girl bits tingling, and that is not a good thing. Drunk and Ryker, that’s not a good combination.
“Yeah, we’ll see how you feel in a few hours. Let’s get ya some food.”
He pulls into a drive-thru and orders me a greasy burger and fries that I devour. When we make it back to the apartment, he has to help me into the place because my balance is a bit off. He leads me to the couch, and I fall onto it with a groan. The burger and booze aren’t working well together, mixing like a concoction of death.
Faster than I thought my body could move, I race to the bathroom, slam my knees to the tile floor, and begin to pray to the porcelain god. I knew this would happen, but this part is the hate I have with tequila. Great going down, shitty coming up.
As my hair is pulled away from my face, mortification sets in just as I throw up again, the contents of my midnight snack now gone. Dammit, and the food was supposed to soak up all the booze.
“Go away,” I tell him as I cough, but he doesn’t move, just gathers my hair, keeping it behind my head.
“Do what ya gotta do, Austyn. I’ve got ya.”
God, he’s got me, the words I’ve always wanted to come from his mouth. Why did he have to wait so long to say them?
I shake my head as another bout comes on. My stomach doesn’t have much in it. Eventually, as the nausea dissipates, I fall to my ass.
When Ryker releases my hair, I feel it fall down my back. Then he moves, and I hear water running, then a cold towel is pressed to my forehead.
He crouches down in front of me with so much compassion on his face. I’m so drunk I can’t stop the walls around my stiffened heart from chipping away. Another reason for me to hate tequila.
“Thank you.”
“Anything for you.” He gives me a wink then rises, going back to the sink where he wets another cloth before handing it to me. “For your mouth.”
I gratefully take it and wipe my mouth, even sticking my tongue out and wiping it. The acidic taste still lingers, though.
“Do you think you’re done?”
Not feeling any more rumbling, I answer with a, “Yeah.”
