Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Hey,” Nick says, “Celeste just doesn’t drink…like ever.” He gives me a hard stare. “She’s a lightweight. We should’ve cut her off. She was upset, so I didn’t stop her. She’s okay,” he says to Olivia. “Jase will get her home and make sure she’s okay. Right, man?”
“Yeah,” I grunt. “I’ll let you know,” I tell Olivia.
“Okay, thank you. I’ll go by and see her in the morning.”
With one last nod, I carry her out of the club. Even though she weighs no more than a buck twenty dripping wet, because of her being out cold, she’s like dead weight in my arms. So I’m grateful when I spot a cab parked in front of the club, and I’m able to sit down with her still in my arms. She shifts slightly, and I take a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Pulling out my phone, I find her address in a text from Nick. I relay it to the cab driver and he takes off. When we arrive, we’re in front of a huge building directly in front of Central Park. I double check the address and throw a twenty at the driver, not needing change. I walk through the lobby and the concierge eyes me cautiously. Something I’m used to. It doesn’t matter where I go, with the tattoos covering my body, I get noticed.
“I need to bring her up to her place,” I tell him. “I imagine she has a key in her purse, but I can’t grab it.”
He nods once. “What’s your name?” I give him all my information, glad Celeste lives somewhere safe, somewhere that cares about her well-being. Once I’m done, he scans his card so the elevator opens, gives me Celeste’s floor and number, and hands me a spare key to her place.
“Thank you.”
Once I get us inside, I take her straight to her room. The doors are all open, so it’s easy to spot which one is hers. I lay her in the middle of her big bed, which makes her appear even tinier than she is. Pulling off each of her heels, I drop them to the floor. She’s dressed in a tight black dress, and I can’t imagine it’s comfortable, but I’m not about to take her clothes off. Instead, I pull the blankets out from under her and cover her. Celeste stirs, her eyes opening slightly.
“Stay, please,” she slurs. “I don’t want to be alone.” Her eyes are already closed, and I doubt she’ll even remember what she said, but I still stay. I use the excuse that I need to make sure she’s okay before I go. I spot a chair in the corner of her room, but it’s too far away to see her in the dark. So, I toe off my shoes and climb into the bed next to her. I watch her sleep for a few minutes before she stirs once more.
Her eyes flutter open once again. “Jase?” she croaks.
“Yeah, I’m here.” I run my fingers through her hair and her eyes roll back slightly.
“What does she have?” she whispers.
“Huh?” I question, unsure of what she’s talking about.
“I could’ve given you it,” she slurs, “whatever you wanted.” I have no clue what she’s talking about, but now isn’t the time to ask. She’s drunk and barely conscious. I almost wonder if maybe she’s mistaking me for her boyfriend, but she used my name, so she knows it’s me…
“Shh…go to sleep, Dimples.”
Her lips turn down into an adorable pout as she mumbles, “But I don’t want this dream to end.” I continue to play with her hair until her breathing evens out and I know she’s back to sleep. Pulling my cell phone out, I send a text to Jax and Quinn to let them know where I am and that I’ll be home before Skyla wakes up. And then for the next few hours I watch Celeste sleep and wonder what our life would be like had she not left me. I know it’s probably crazy to assume we would still be together. We were young, and the odds were against us, but the way I felt about her back then…I have no doubt I wouldn’t have tried with every part of me to keep her.
* * *
“Dad! You’re home!” Skyla bounds toward the front door, her errant red curls bouncing along the way. She wraps her arms around my waist and gives me a hug. I thought as she got older, she would shy away from being a Daddy’s girl, but she hasn’t, and it warms my heart at the relationship we have. I’ve heard horror stories about girls in their teenage years, but so far, my daughter is proving to be the exception. “Where were you? It’s not like you to be out all night.” She smirks slyly. “Were you…out on a date?” She waggles her eyebrows playfully.