Page 21 of One Night to Fall
“It’s not stupid,” I murmur, wanting so desperately to hold him. “Let’s go back to my place and I’ll make you dinner.”
“I think that crosses your line,” he says, squinting at me again.
“Yeah, well, I’m a glutton for punishment.”
“It’s hot when you punish me.” He grins, leaning so far to one side he stumbles, catching himself before he hits the ground.
“Uh-huh, let’s go.”
“Oh, come on, it’s funny,” he muses, bumping into me as we start walking back toward the parking lot. “And true.”
“You won’t remember any of this in the morning.”
“Yes, I will. You wanted to be my knight in shining armor.”
I don’t respond because deep down, I did. I hate that he’s hurting. But seeing the sweet, vulnerable side of Jesse has only reaffirmed that if I’m not careful, I’ll be the one drunk in a field when all this is done.
15
JESSE
My head pounds as consciousness slowly seeps into my brain. Even without opening my eyes, I know that I’m not home, the pillow under my head something you’d put on your couch rather than a bed.
Adrian.
Fuck me.
The entire night comes back in a blur.
Me walking around the tree farm getting wasted.
Sending Adrian’s calls to voicemail.
Adrian showing up and asking me what happened then taking me home.
I’d refused to sleep in his bed after he made some kind of pasta with chicken that I practically inhaled before passing out.
Awesome.
I’d pissed all over the lines Adrian had drawn and I owe him an apology…right after I find some mouthwash.
And coffee.
Throwing back the blanket, I stand and fold it, thankful that my legs are steadier than they had been last night. It wasn’t myfinest moment, but I’d hoped to drink the ache in my chest away. It didn’t work; my heart’s just as heavy today as it was yesterday.
The house is quiet, as I make quick work of washing my face with the hand soap. Finding something to tackle the pint of whiskey I drank is a different story, but after rummaging through the vanity drawers, I finally find a small bottle of mouthwash in a travel case.
Figuring the least I can do is start a pot of coffee, I wander back into the kitchen, the space tidy and completely void of the dinner Adrian had thrown together last night.
“You’re awake,” he mumbles, his voice low and gravelly from sleep, andGoddoes my body take notice.
“I wanted to make you some coffee”—clearing my throat, I turn to face him—“and apologize for last night. You?—”
“No apology necessary.” I open my mouth to argue but he just shakes his head. “How are you feeling?”
“Probably better than I would have if I’d stayed in the trees.”
I know that’s not what he meant but it’s too early for that kind of heartache.
