Page 86 of Inferno

“I barely knew Nero. Things happen differently here. It’s weird, but even when it feels impossible, things have a way of working themselves out in Rockhead Point, you’ll see. But first, dinner, our treat as a welcome to town.”

“You already brought me all the cakes and cookies,” I try to argue.

“Resistance is futile.” She laughs. “Just accept it. Welcome to the family.”

That’s the second time someone has said that to me in the last couple of days, and once again emotion fills my throat and tears prickle at the back of my eyes.

Dinner with Parker, Tori, James, and Etta is…fun. They welcome me to the group like they’re genuinely excited to include me, and I find myself enjoying their company. I don’t understand how I could have gone all these years without ever connecting with anyone, only to be collecting friends left, right, and center since I agreed to move to this town.

No one else mentions Anders, or me and Anders, and I’m grateful, although it’s clear from Parker’s pointed looks that she wants to ask me about my comment about a certain someone knowing where I live.

When talk turns to Parker’s crazy wedding idea, things start to get out of hand, and pitchers of some kind of cocktail start to appear on the table. I’m not a drinker, but margaritas are gooood. The first glass is delicious, but at some point, the night goes from fun to…hazy.

Some time and a few pitchers of margaritas later, someone calls in the cavalry, and an amused Barnett turns up, pays the bill, then herds us all toward a minivan that’s parked at the curb.

“I can walk,” I protest, slurring my words a little.

“Barely,” the Barnett, whose name I’m not entirely sure of, says with an amused chuckle. “I’ll take you home before I run the girls up the mountain.”

I think I must take a quick nap, because when I open my eyes, we’re outside the garage. I fumble with the van’s door handle, finally getting it open just as the Barnett appears at the window.

“I’ll walk you up,” he says gruffly.

“No, no, I’m fine.”

Ignoring my drunken protests, he follows me as I slowly climb the stairs to my apartment, helping me turn the lock and open the door before he follows me inside.

“Does your man know you can’t hold your liquor?” the Barnett teases.

“I don’t have a man.”

“That’s not what I heard. Nor what he said when he asked me to make sure you got home okay. I think he’d rather me take you to his place than here, but I thought I’d give you the choice.”

“I’m not going to his house,” I hiss. “He left me. He’s a…a dick,” I say, struggling to find an adequate insult in my drunken state.

“Sometimes love can make us all a little crazy. From the way he’s been freaking out about you drinking, I’d say it’s pretty clear that he hasn’t left you and that he’s thinking about you and is worried. Maybe you should reply to one of the messages he’s sent you, then even if you just tell him he’s a dick again, he’ll know you’re okay.”

“Which one are you?” I ask bluntly.

His soft chuckle makes me feel odd. “I’m Cody.”

“I think I’m going to be sick, Cody.”

Cody’s eyes go wide, and grabbing me by the arm, he drags me into the bathroom and positions me in front of the toilet. I puke so much it feels like all that’s left of my body is a pile of dehydrated mush.

Cody doesn’t leave. Instead, he brings me a glass of water and stays at my side, placing a wet washcloth on the back of my neck while I throw up everything I’ve ever eaten.

I’m not sure how much time has passed when the sound of someone knocking on the door makes me blink and lift my face from where I’d be resting it on the edge of the tub.

“Thanks,” a familiar, gruff voice says, a moment before I hear the front door closing.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to convince myself this is all a bad dream.

“Fucking hell, Boy, what did you do to yourself?”

His voice is poison and paradise rolled into one. I don’t want him here, I don’t want him to see me like this, but knowing he’s here, that he came, even though I didn’t ask for him, thaws some of the ice I’ve been trying to encase my heart in.

“When was the last time you puked?” he asks, stepping into the bathroom and kneeling at my side, his warm fingers pushing my hair back from my forehead.

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