Page 90 of Inferno

I brace for more questions, but they don’t come and I’m grateful. I’m too fragile to explain my past right now.

Opening my texting app, I type out a quick message to Cody.

Me: Hey Bro, Buck said you’re picking the girls up and driving them back up the mountain. Henry is mine, I’d appreciate you making sure he gets back to his apartment safe.

Cody: Yours?

Me: Mine.

Cody: Am I taking him to your place?

Me: If he wants to go there, absolutely. There’s a spare key beneath the plant pot by the front door. But he’s pissed at me right now, so I think he’d prefer to go to his new place.

Cody: Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s safe.

Me: Thanks.

Cody: Any time.

The others all receive regular pictures, texts, and videos from their significant others, but my cell stays conspicuously silent. I consider texting him, but I’m not sure if his drunken honesty would be a good or bad thing right now.

An hour later, my cell starts to ring, and when I lift it, I find Cody Barnett’s number on the screen. Answering immediately, I bring my cell to my ear.

“Is he okay?” I ask.

“He’s puking his guts up right now, and he barely made it up the steps to his apartment. I offered to drive him to your place, but he was pretty adamant he didn’t want to go. Beau is on his way to drive the others back up the mountain so I can stay with him, but…” He trails off, waiting to see what I’ll say.

“I’m on my way. If you can stay with him until I get there.”

“Of course. He’s fine, just drunk, but I don’t think he should be on his own.”

“Thanks, Cody. I’ll be thirty minutes.”

“No rush. Drive safe.”

Ending the call, I lift my gaze and find my entire team staring back at me, similar worry-filled expressions etched across their faces.

“Boss, I need to go.”

“Is everything okay?” Buck asks.

“Henry got pretty drunk, he’s puking his guts up and refusing to go to my place. Cody is with him, but?—”

“Go,” Buck says before I’ve ever finished speaking.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, go. I’ll expect you back by eleven a.m.”

“Thanks, boss,” I say, relief evident in my tone as I jump out of my seat and rush toward the door.

I drive faster than I should and make it down the mountain in record time. I’m out of breath by the time I lift my fist and knock on his front door. Cody opens it a moment later, smiling at me as he points toward the bedroom and bathroom I can just about see through the door.

“He’s stopped puking, but he’s going to feel like crap in the morning. Etta said he had three margaritas, a lot less than the others, who were all drunk too. But apparently your man can’t hold his liquor.”

“I doubt he’s ever drunk before,” I say, more to myself than Cody. “Thanks for staying with him, I’ve got it from here.”

“Okay, bro.”

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