Page 3 of Even Exchange

Twenty minutes later, we’re before Charlotte’s door, her body tucked bridal-style in my arms. She slept most of the way, but I did wake her up to obtain a room number and key. The same key I’m awkwardly unlocking the door with while trying not to drop her.No, Charlotte. I’m not sure how you got that bump on your head.It clicks open, and I bring us inside, then nudge it quietly shut with my foot. I flick on the light with my elbow, revealing a quaint little space. There’s a small kitchen, living area, and three separate bedrooms. Given one of the doors is adorned with a big letter C, I assume it’s Charlotte’s and head straight for it.

My assumptions are confirmed upon opening the door. Photos of Charlotte and two little kids, presumably her siblings, adorn the nightstand, along with a few others of her and Sir Fuck Face. I choose to ignore those, making my way to her bed and gently setting her atop the pink comforter. The shower will have to wait because she certainly can’t stand, and stripping her down and helping her—although I’m not against it—seems like crossing a definite line.

My eyes trail her body—she’s so beautiful—finally landing on heeled glitter boots that wouldn’t be very comfortable to sleep in. Gripping the top of the boot, I slide the zipper down and tug it off. She wiggles her toes, and I chuckle, knowing she’ll thank me for this in the morning.

Hopefully… if she remembers.

Her boots land on the floor with a thud, and I grab a small trash bin from next to the desk and place it on her nightstand. My eyes fall to chestnut hair fluttering across the pillow, her chest gently rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern.

Her shoulders jerk, and my heart rate spikes.Is she having a seizure?She shoots upright and flies off the bed, sprinting to the bathroom.

It’s going to be a long night.

* * *

Charlotte takes deep breaths, back flat against her bathroom wall. She’s bounced between there and hugging the toilet bowl the entire night. I’m on the opposite side, eyes shut given it’s six in the morning and we’ve barely slept.

“How did I get out of the bar?” Charlotte asks, and my eyes pop open. It’s the first time she’s spoken in hours, but that question sounds deliberate. Like she’s been ruminating a while before surrendering and asking me. Her soft brown eyes meet mine, lips pursed. “I don’t remember.”

“Yeah, you were pretty out of it,” I say gently. “I carried you.”

“Youcarriedme?” She groans and slowly rests her head back against the wall.

“Yep.”

“Why?”

My brows squish together. “Because you were asleep?”

“Sorry you had to do that,” she murmurs, eyes dropping to her hands as she picks at her fingernails.

Someone had to.“I didn’t mind.”

“Jonathan texted me that Sophia kicked him and Seth out. So thanks for coming to my rescue.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Yeah,that’swhy he wasn’t there.

“No problem,” I grumble, trying to keep the bite out of my tone.

She blows a raspberry. “Hopefully no one posted photos of you carrying me out.”

My eyes find hers again. I hadn’t even considered that.

A headline flashes before my eyes: “Star Quarterback Drugs Cheerleader and Kidnaps Her,”paired with a photo of the cute little disco ball passed out in my arms as we left the bar.

Then they’ll dig into my past, and while certain files are sealed… if there’s a will, there’s a way.

“Why?” I ask, rubbing my knuckles against my stubble, heart rate picking up to a gallop.

“Because my mom would have a meltdown.”

“Your mom?” I assumed she was worried Jonathan would see and be pissed I was holding his girl.

Maybe he shouldn’t have left her.

“Do you know who Georgia Benson is?” she asks, voice scratchy from the night’s events.

“The one running for Governor?” My mind races at the realization. Charlotte Benson. Georgia Benson. Of course. “Isn’t your family, like…?” I feel like it’s a rude question, and my words stumble.

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