“I don’t want to see him,” I say and lay my head on my crossed arms on the bar. “I was just starting to not hurt all the time. Why is he here?”
Callie and Van talk, sharing theories and thoughts, and I just listen, enjoying this hazy place between fall-down drunk and sober. It’s a good place to be when you don’t want to feel.
“Uh oh,” Callie says, catching my attention. I look up at her and she nods toward the doorway. I turn on my stool and there they are: Eli, Declan, Beau, and Simon.
“Who gave him the black eye?” I ask, holding Simon’s gaze.
“We’re not sure,” Declan says.
“I want to give them a high five because I also want to give him a black eye.” I turn back to the bar and stare at Callie. “I need another drink.”
“You’ll pass out,” Van hisses in my ear.
“I should be so lucky.” I glare at Callie, but she just shakes her head and suddenly Simon is standing next to me.
“Stop smelling good,” I snap at him. Just look at him, standing there smelling all good and stuff like he owns the place.
“Charlotte, I’d like to speak to you,” he says and his voice is like a balm to my wounded soul.
And that pisses me off too.
“Look, I don’t want to talk to you,” I reply and point my finger in his face. “You’re mean and sexy and… mean.” I nod once and turn to Van. “I told him off.”
“You did great,” she says with a smile.
“Also,” I say and turn back to him. “I think you should have two black eyes.”
“You’re probably right,” Simon says, making me scowl.
“You’re not supposed to agree with me.”
“My apologies.”
“Do his manners annoy anyone else?” I ask the room at large. My brothers are just hanging back, watching us. They’re not kicking anyone’s ass, and that just irritates the hell out of me. “Aren’t you supposed to beat him up?”
“They already did. Charly,” he begins, but I cut him off.
“Good. I’m glad they beat you up. I told Declan not to tell me where you are, so he’s in deep shit with me.”
“You mean tell me where you are?”
“Are you trying to confuse me?”
He simply laughs and reaches up to brush my hair off my face, but I flinch away from his touch, and then the room starts to spin.
“Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Eli asks.
“Gonna pass out.”
Chapter Twenty-One
~Simon~
True to her word, Charly passes out, right into my arms.
“She always passes out when she drinks too much,” Van informs me. She and Callie are both glaring at me, which I completely deserve.
It’s almost worse than Charly’s brothers all taking a round with me in their martial arts studio.
Almost.
But having her in my arms, feeling her against me, smelling her hair, makes it all worth it. Now I just have to convince her to take me back.
As soon as she sobers up.
“I’m going to take her home,” I say and lift her into my arms. She’s so damn small, she fits perfectly.
“Like hell you are,” Van says and stands, pulling herself up to full height, which is no taller than Charly. “She would have my ass if she found out I let you take her home. She doesn’t want to see you.”
“I know.” And God, it bloody hurts. “I’m hoping to change her mind about that.”
“Are you really going to let him walk out of here with her?” Van demands, pointing at her brothers.
“It’s okay, Van,” Beau says. “He may be an idiot, but he loves her.”
“Thanks, mate,” I reply and smile at Savannah. “I won’t hurt her again, darling.”
Charly whimpers and buries her face in my neck. I want to hold her all night. I want to comfort her and protect her and love her.
“I don’t know,” Van says, shaking her head.
“I respect your opinion, but frankly, you’re not going to stop me. I’m going to take her home, let her sleep this off, and then I’m going to make things right with her.”
“Oh, trust me,” Savannah says, her eyes almost green. “I can stop you. I may be small, but I can kick your ass.”
I grin and nod, charmed by her loyalty and determination.
“I’ll remember that.”
I nod at Callie, then turn to walk out of the bar. Eli steps out of my way, but lays a hand on my shoulder, stopping me.
“Hurt her, and it’ll be a hell of a lot worse than a black eye,” he warns.
“Understood.”
The drive to her house is quiet, the silence broken only by her sweet little snores. It’s the middle of the afternoon, and my girl is passed out stinking drunk.
She’s bloody adorable.
I manage to get her inside and up the stairs to bed. Once her shoes are off, I contemplate changing her clothes, but decide that I’d rather survive long enough to actually talk with her, so I leave her yellow dress on her and tuck her into bed.
I spend the rest of the afternoon and evening working, talking to Todd, and waiting.
But she doesn’t wake up.
Her makeup is a mess. She has dark circles under her eyes, leading me to believe that she hasn’t been sleeping well.
She’s exhausted.
I want to be nearby, but again, climbing in bed with her isn’t a wise choice, so I pull up a chair and sit next to her. I didn’t think I would ever see her again, and here I am, just inches away.