Page 74 of Filthy Player
“How drunk are you?”
She hiccupped. Trashed, obviously. Her brows furrowed and lips puckered while she took her time thinking. “My head is going to hurt in the morning but I won’t be puking.” She reached for a beer and I stopped her.
“How about we stay that way?”
She hiccupped again.
Melanie’s giggles grew louder.
“That’s probably a good idea,” Paige said, her words stretching out over a yawn and she covered her mouth. “It just felt so good earlier, I couldn’t stop.”
If it’d been off-season, I probably would have done the same.
“Okay then, drunk girl.” I pushed her chair back and pulled her cards from her hand. “How about we get upstairs. I’ve got more things to talk to you about.”
“No.” She shook her head. “No more talking. I’ve had enough talky-talk today and I’m done talking.”
“Then you can listen.”
“I don’t like doing that either today.”
I glanced at Sam for support. There was more shit to figure out and there wasn’t a lot of time. There was no damn way she was going to be working at the restaurant with the crowds it got until I knew she was safe. I hated to spoil it but if she were drunk when I told her I just paid her dad’s hospital expenses so she didn’t have to go back to waitressing, she’d take it better than sober.
Or she’d get even drunker, but I’d hold her head while she puked if she needed it.
“Not tonight, son,” Sam said. He wasn’t drinking, but he was sitting in a wheelchair. His hands were steady and his eyes were clear. “Let her do what she has to do.”
My jaw went tight. “Sam—”
His eyes told me he understood. Maybe not what I had to say, but that things were more serious than we’d thought.
I didn’t doubt Jaxon hadn’t heard what we found at the garage, but he obviously hadn’t said anything.
“She might be your girl, but she’s mine, too. And tonight, give her this. You can smack her with reality first thing tomorrow, but she needs this.”
“Come on,” Paige slurred, pushing back from me. “Sit and play a hand with us.”
“You can have mine,” Jaxon said, already pushing back from the table. “I got calls to make anyway.”
I stood from the table and brushed Paige’s hair off her cheek. She wasn’t wearing the clip in her hair like she usually did and her bangs covered one of her eyes, flopping back after I tucked it behind her ear. “You need another drink?”
“Absolutely.”
“All right, then. Let’s play some bullshit.”
We did. For two more hours.
And the night ended with me doing exactly what I knew I would. Me holding Paige’s hair back while she puked into the toilet.
But when she climbed into her bed next to me, rolled to her side, and clung to me, I didn’t care I’d just held her hair while she puked.
She curled into me even though being with me put her in the line of fire of a psycho. Right before she passed out, her mouth at my throat, she whispered, “I love you.”
And all of it, every fucking second of my shitastic day, was completely worth it to hear it, even if she wouldn’t remember saying it.
***
Paige stirred in my arms and groaned. My hand was on the back of her head, holding her to my chest. I’d woken up but stayed in bed, wanting to be there for her when she woke up. She’d tossed and turned during the night, kicked off covers and moaned more than once, a pained sound that when she woke me, it didn’t sound like it had anything to do with her alcohol intake the previous day, but her fear from earlier.
