“Why I can’t get enough of you,” I say, recovering myself.
He looks slightly disappointed, but seems to shake it off quickly. “Well, that’s why you should move in.” He steps back and walks over to the fridge, grabbing another beer for me.
“Trying to get me drunk?” I ask.
He laughs. “If it’ll convince you to move in with me.”
I smile. “Let’s go to the apartment tonight. I want to show you something.”
“You do?” I ask, taking a sip of the drink after he takes the top off and hands it to me.
“Yeah. Leave that.” He signals to the blueprints.
“Fine, Mr. Bossy.”
“I’ll show you Mr. Bossy.” He slaps my ass when I walk in front of him.
_____________
I’m laughing my ass off when we walk into the apartment as Bryce tells me a story about Jace being scared of his own poop when he was a boy in the bathtub.
“He took off running,” he says, tossing his keys onto the counter.
“I can’t wait to pick on him.”
He laughs. “He’s going to kill me.”
“Nah, I’m sure you could take him.”
He winks as I take a sip from my beer. “What did you want to show me?” I ask.
“It’s upstairs. I got you something, actually.”
“You did? Oh, I’m excited!” I say, heading for the stairs.
“Don’t run. I don’t want you to break your neck.”
I hit the top and head straight for his bedroom, passing by Mary’s room when something catches my eye and causes me to stop. I drop my beer bottle, and my hand goes to my mouth.
“What are you doing?” he asks, looking down at the bottle. “Kat, what is it?”
I shake my head and quickly grab my phone from my back pocket.
“Fuck, Mom?!” Bryce yells and runs into the room. She’s lying on the floor with foam coming out of her mouth.
He lifts her head and rocks her. “Mom, wake up,” he says. “Wake up.” His voice shakes as he moves her head to the side.
An emergency operator answers the phone. “We need an ambulance now,” I say, then shoot off the address.
Bryce lifts her up and carries her to the bathroom. Cutting the shower on, he sets her in and lets the water run over her pale skin. He then sticks his fingers down her throat, trying to make her throw up. My eyes shoot to him, getting soaked with nothing but pure worry on his face.
This is my fault.
I should have told him.
I shouldn’t have kept this to myself.
God, how will he forgive me if she dies?