Page 94 of Wicked Minds
I’m silent as we ascend the second flight of stairs. “Give me a few days to think about it?” I ask. “It’s not that I don’t want or appreciate your help, it’s just… I’m used to being in this all on my own. This still doesn’t feel real, and what you’re offering… it’s no small matter. I’d be in your debt for the rest of my life.”
He tugs me to a stop on the top step. “Riley. I’m not doing this so you’ll owe me one?—”
“I know you’re not, but that doesn’t change how I’m going to feel about it. Just… give me a couple of days to think about it.” I give him a pleading look and he folds with a sigh.
“Okay, Shortcake, but don’t think you’re going to distract me so I’ll forget.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice that draws a smile from me as I turn down the hallway to my apartment.
“What the hell?” Logan murmurs, and I glance up to see what’s caught his attention. “Who the hell is that at your door?”
A body is slumped against the door to my apartment, and as we cautiously approach, whoever it is becomes clear.
“Gray?” Logan says in confusion. “Why the hell is Grayson passed out in front of your apartment?”
Isn’t that the real question.
Sighing, I shake my head. “Apparently, this is where drunk Grayson likes to hang out,” I mutter as I fish out my keys.
“Huh?”
I wave away his confusion. “We need to move him before I can open the door.”
Logan hands me the couple of bags he was carrying from our day out, before bending down to haul a very passed-out Grayson off the floor. “Jesus, he weighs a fucking ton.”
I huff out a breath as I hurriedly unlock the door before pushing it open. “You can put him on the sofa.”
“I’m not bringing him into your apartment,” Logan sneers.
Throwing my arms out, I ask, “What do you suppose we do with him, then? We can’t leave him out here.”
He looks around the hallway as if that is, in fact, a very feasible option.
“Logan. No. Just bring him inside. He’s unconscious. What can he possibly do?”
Not looking the least bit impressed, he reluctantly relents, hauling Grayson higher into his arms before maneuvering him into the apartment and dropping him on the couch.
“Now what?” Logan asks.
Pulling the pink blanket Logan purchased today from the shopping bag, I drape it over him before grabbing a bucket from under the sink and placing it beside his head.
“Let him sleep it off, I guess.” I turn away, pulling off my coat and hanging it up.
“Here?” Logan questions as though the idea is preposterous.
“Well, he’s already here.”
“He’s not staying here alone with you.”
At his stern tone, I turn to look at him, crossing my arms over my chest and arching a challenging brow. “I’m perfectly capable of handling Grayson.”
“I know you are, Shortcake,” Logan quickly insists. “Although I should at least stay. Just in case.”
“You have an early training session in the morning,” I remind him.
“I’m not leaving you alone with him,” he reiterates with more firmness.
I roll my eyes at his ridiculous macho bullshit.
“I’ll be fine. He’s dead to the world and probably will be for at least twelve hours. Plus, he’ll have one hell of a hangover when he wakes up. Doubt he’ll be able to do much to me with that.”
