“Have you ever been in love, Jeremiah?”
“It’s actually just Jeremy.”
“But have you?”
We already talked about this, I groaned inwardly, but I humored him anyway. “I’ve thought I was, but no. Never the real thing.”
“Well, I’ve had the real thing and it’s shit, Jeremy, let me tell you.” He held his hand out like he was toasting with a drink, then he looked at his empty hand and narrowed his eyes. “Where’s my drink?” His blue eyes widened. “Oh, no! I spilled it on you.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“I’m so sorry, Jeremiah.”
“It’s Jeremy.”
“Jeez, I can’t even get your name right.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” he moaned. “It’s never going to be okay again.”
The driver stopped in front of a large house set back from the street at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was monstrous and opulent, and the lot was at least half an acre, if not more. The long, paved driveway ended at a detached garage I was sure held at least four vehicles. In front of the garage the concrete was blackened and wet. It looked fresh.
“I set it on fire,” he said when he caught me looking. “I had to purge it all so I could move on.”
“Brian, let’s get you to bed,” I said, helping him out and across the perfectly manicured lawn.
“What about your ride?” he slurred.
“I can call another car when I’m ready.”
When he struggled to get his keys in the lock, I helped him open the door, then I led him inside. The inside of the house was artfully decorated and as luxurious as the outside. Trophies and medals lined the hall and the foyer, carefully displayed in glass boxes affixed to the wall.
“How are you feeling?” I asked him.
“Like a piece of shit,” he slurred. “And my mouth is dry.”
“Can I get you some water? That’ll help you avoid a hangover.” I was lying, of course. It would help in the long run, but there was nothing that would stop Brian from waking up with lots of regret and a huge headache.
“Sure, whatever.” His legs buckled but I kept him from hitting the floor. Then he looked at me, our faces inches apart. “You sure are handsome, you know that?”
“Thank you.”
“If I wasn’t bad at love, I would totally ask you out.”
“I’m sure you would.” I took a step, forcing him to move with me toward the kitchen. Holding onto him with one arm, I took a cup out of the cabinet and filled it from the dispenser in the fridge. “Drink up.”
I held the cup for him and he drank two glasses before he turned his head. “I’m going to burst.”
“I’m sure you are. Which way to the bedroom?”
“Why? You wanna see it? My room, I mean. That came out wrong, I think.”
“Sure.”
His grin was wide, eyes droopy. He was fading fast. “The end of the hall. It has the best view ever.”
With my arm still holding Brian up, I half walked, half carried him down the hall and into his room. I got him onto the bed and within a few seconds he was snoring loudly. Rolling him onto his side, I propped him up with pillows just in case. There didn’t seem to be a real risk of vomiting by then, but I couldn’t risk it. Untying his shoes, I slipped them off and arranged them neatly with the rest, then I covered him with a heavy comforter and made sure he was tucked in.
Passing through the kitchen, I saw a notepad and pen. Before I could change my mind, I wrote him a quick note complete with my number. I cringed when I added an invitation to hang out. It was a little too flirty, but something about Brian had me hoping he would take me up on the offer. I didn’t usually go for sloppy drunks, but it was clear from what I’d managed to get out of him and the recent soot marks in the driveway he was hurting. I was willing to bet this wasn’t a normal look for him.
The door clicked shut and I turned the handle to make sure it locked behind me. Brian Hattersly was on his own now that there was a locked door between us. The ball was in his court. With one last look at the huge house I jogged to the car and hopped in, ready to go home. There’d been enough excitement to last me the rest of the week, and I still had to deal with Garret in the morning.
Lucky me.
4
Brian
I was moaning before my eyes opened. Blinking against the bright rays of sunlight that pierced through the curtains and assaulted me without mercy, it took me almost a full minute to realize I was in my bed. The shoes I’d warn to the bar the night before were across from the bed, neatly in line with the others, and when I tried to roll onto my back, I discovered my pillows were propping me up. “What the hell?” I muttered, throwing the quilt back and lurching out of bed. I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten home, but somehow, I’d been able to put my shoes away neatly and had the foresight to prop myself on my side so I didn’t choke if I got sick? That didn’t make sense.
But my splitting headache was demanding my attention, and I knew whatever memory I had of the night before was better left erased. Judging by the way my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, I’d had far more booze than I was used to, and that was never a good look. Good thing I’d chosen a bar where I was unknown.
I was halfway down the hallway when I noticed I was still wearing socks and the clothes I’d worn the night before. Scowling, I made a beeline for the laundry room and stripped out of clothes that smelled heavily of alcohol and regret, then I took a hot shower, washing away the last evidence of my shame. Refreshed, I went into the kitchen in hopes of finding something sweet to take the edge off the little bit of nausea I was feeling. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it should have been, but I was still a little unsteady on my feet, so maybe I hadn’t been asleep long enough to completely sober up.
A single glass was in the dish drainer, still damp with condensation on the inside. Dark green on the bottom and fading to clear as it went up, it was from a set I didn’t normally use, and I didn’t recall taking it out. Or washing it.
Intrigued, I scanned the rest of the room for anything else out of the ordinary, then I saw it. The notepad and pen I kept on the bar by the fridge was moved. I crossed the room, stomach in knots, though I wasn’t sure why. Just a feeling that something had happened the night before, but my mind was a blank.
Neat handwriting scrawled across the wide lines with today’s date on it.
Brian,
I’m sorry you were having a rough time. Your cell and keys are on the table in the foyer, and I locked the door on my way out. Give me a call if you ever need to talk, or want to hang out. Whatever you’re going through, you’re not alone.
Always,
Jeremy Hughes
At the bottom was his phone number.
I stared at the note, mouth agape, rereading it over and over. This man had been in my house and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pull up an image of Jeremy Hughes. The mystery man had seen me at my worst and instead of inviting himself to spend the night and taking advantage of me, he’d made sure I was okay. He’d even gone so far as to force a bit of water down me so I wouldn’t be completely parched when I woke up. His kindness was amazing, but the entire thing had my stomach in knots. Flashes of hazy distorted memories flooded through my mind as the heat crawled up my neck. I’d been at my lowest and a complete stranger had made it his mission to see me home safely. The only thing that would make it worse was a spot on the front cover of the tabloids.