Page 97 of Grave Misgivings
Dare rubs my shoulder. “Then tell him that.” He chews his bottom lip. “Men are stupid. Sometimes they need it spelled out.” I watch him smirk at Mateo.
“What if?—”
“Your ride is here,” Mateo says smoothly.
What ride?
“I’ll walk you out.” He climbs to his feet, and I follow, confused.
“I didn’t ask for a ride...”
Mateo stops in front of a black SUV. “I know,” he says warmly. “But Dare’s right. Don’t tell him I said that, though.”
I sigh. “I think I love him, Matty.”
Mateo doesn’t correct my drunken slip up like he does with everyone else, and for that I’m thankful.
It only highlights how drunk I actually am.
He opens the door for me. He smiles. “Then tellhim, not me.” And then he shuts the door.
When I getto Zeb’s driveway, I am terrified.
That I’m going to walk through his door and he’s going to be pissed at me.
I slide my hands in my pockets, hoping he’s still awake, since I know it’s late. If not, then I’m going to have to go to my parents’ for the night.
And showing up on my mom’s doorstep, half-drunk at one in the morning is probably not good idea no matter how old I am.
Plus, I’m sure Katy would kill me. There’s no way she wouldn’t put two and two together, even if Zeb didn’t call her.
I’m surprised when I push the door and it opens. The lights are dim, and I shut the door quietly. Locking it.
Maybe he’s already asleep, and I can just?—
“You came back.” His voice is deep, dark, gravelly.
And definitely drunk.
“Of course, I came back,” I reply, toeing my shoes off at the door. I walk slowly across the tile, noting where he sits on the couch, shirtless. The low lights cast a golden glow on his skin, shadows dancing and making his dark hair thicker across his chest, alongside his jaw.
His green eyes are dark, sad, and I stand in front of him for a moment.
My fingers fidget from the habit, turning an invisible ring.
“I fucked up,” he slurs, taking a drink of green liquid.
I see the Sour Apple Pucker on the coffee table, about half full.
And then I see the jar of maraschino cherries, several little stems lined up on a napkin, tied into knots.
“Zeb—”
He stands, and the motion draws my attention to his massive frame and height. He towers over me, his eyes glistening with sadness.
“I let you down,” he says softly, burying his face in my hair.
I fall into his warmth, my hands tightening their grip on his hips.
