Page 133 of Call the Shots
“I’m sorry…” she mumbled.
“It’s okay.” My hands shook and I tightened my grip, cocooning her body to mine. “It’s okay.”
I didn’t know if I was talking to me or her, but I kept whispering those two words as I stepped out of the pool, carrying a limp June, more of a ragdoll than a person. Jeez, she was drunk. I set her on a pool chair and returned with towels, carefully drying her off while her bloodshot eyes kept rolling back.
She said something else, but I couldn’t understand her.
“Shh, it’s okay,” I whispered.
I needed to get her stuff from around the pool. Her purse, phone, a box of zero-calorie mints, her room key, and a small envelope were scattered. I threw my clothes on, picking up everything. The little envelope had her room number written on it. We could grab her stuff before we left.
June stretched out her arms to me and I knelt down to pick her up. She stopped mumbling, burying her face in the crook of my neck as I pressed her just as close.
The guys were silent when I pushed the gate open.
“Nick, stay with the car.” I nodded towards it, halfway up on the sidewalk—the shittiest parking job. “Fridge, call Cleo, tell her we found her. Montoya you’re coming with me, we need to get June’s stuff.”
“What am I supposed to get, Bear?” Montoya asked on our way to the elevator.
“Grab everything,” I told him, rubbing June’s back. “I’ll put you in pajamas, baby. It’s going to be okay.”
Her room was as immaculate as she kept our dorm. It wasn’t hard to dig in the dresser to find some of her favorite pajama pants. None of her tops would cut it though. She was too cold, and wasn’t hypothermia deadly? I couldn’t let her freeze. I searched through her suitcase for my hoodie and came back to June, who was trying to pull her dress off.
She blinked slowly, eyes on me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen someone so drunk.
“Hey, killer,” I whispered, fighting to keep my voice calm. Gently, I slipped the dress off her and it thumped to the ground, drenched. As quick as I could, I dried her off before pulling the hoodie over her head and tying her pajama pants at the waist. “I’m going to bring you home to all your leafy children. You'll sleep this off.”
Montoya’s phone rang and I could feel his eyes on me. “Uh, Bear? Fridge says we have a problem.”
“I know we’re doing a search and rescue, but I’m too drunk,” Fridge admitted over speaker. “I don’t think I explained this well to Cleo, she’s freaking out.”
“What’d you tell her?” I demanded.
“I told her we’re drunk—I didn’t mean to sayyou’redrunk—oh, fuck.” He heaved a sigh. “She said we’re not allowed to leave Austin—Bear! Are you listening to me?”
I wasn’t. June had closed her eyes, and she hadn’t opened them yet. I leaned over her. “June?”
Nothing.
I grabbed her shoulder and shook her. “June? Baby—wake up!”
“We can’t stay in Austin overnight,” Fridge continued. “Cleo says she’s fifteen minutes away, let’s meet up with her, drop off June, we’ll leave for Houston?—”
I picked June up and made my way to the door. “Montoya, now!”
“But—”
“NOW!” I grabbed the phone from him, heading for the stairs. “Fridge, put Cleo on the line.”
It was quiet for a moment before Cleo’s voice cracked over the phone. “Bear Moreau. What were youthinking?!Driving drunk—I could throttle you for this. I’m staying in a house with Miles, you’re?—”
“We’re not taking June to Houston,” I told her. “I need you to meet me—hold on, I have to pull up the address?—”
“I know the hotel?—”
“Not the hotel?—”
“What? Where are you going?”
