“We fell asleep. Nothing happened.” I didn’t know why I was bothering to explain—Caiden had been the one to storm out and leave me with Cassius last night.
“Yeah, mate. Nothing happened,” Cassius mumbled lazily, moving his arm off me. I gingerly raised myself into a seated position, groaning again as my head swam. My eyelids fluttered as I swayed to the side, and the next minute Caiden was crouching right in front of me, peering into my face.
“You look like shit,” he stated. “How much did you have to drink?”
“Uh…we finished all the vodka and shared a joint. Maybe two. I think.” My stomach rolled. “I feel sick.”
“For fuck’s sake. Are you going to be sick?”
“I don’t know. I feel horrible.” I felt too ill to spar with him, or to do anything. “I need to lie down.” I went to lie back down next to Cassius, but Caiden stopped me.
“Oh no you don’t. Come here.”
He scooped me into his arms and carefully climbed to his feet. I laid my head on his chest and closed my eyes again. “Where are you taking me?”
“To bed,” he said shortly. I curled my body into his, the nausea twice as bad now we were moving. As good as his arms felt cradling me, I really hoped I didn’t throw up on him. That wouldn’t go down well. I tried to concentrate on breathing slowly, in and out, my head spinning, as I felt him carry me up the stairs.
He nudged open a door with his foot—I heard it creak as it opened—and a few moments later he’d deposited me on a soft bed. I groaned in relief as the pillows cradled my sore head, and attempted to open my eyes.
“I’ll be back.”
I gave up on trying to open my eyes and curled into a ball on my side, my stomach churning. What was probably a few minutes later I heard a clattering sound and managed to peel my eyelids open to look at Caiden. “Water, and a bowl in case you’re sick. Try to sleep it off.”
“Thanks, Cade.” I reached out my hand and fumbled for his, giving it a squeeze. “I mean it.”
He grunted, roughly tugging his hand free from my grip. “Sleep.”
I managed a few sips of water as I heard the door close behind him, and then I passed out.
The next time I woke, it was to Weston’s face as he gently shook my shoulders.
“Stop it,” I moaned, burrowing into the covers. “I need sleep.”
“No.” He prodded my cheek. “Get up. You’re coming with us. Did you bring a change of clothes?”
I tried to focus on his words. “Blue bag.”
“Okay. I’m gonna turn on the shower for you. Fuck, Winter, how much did you and Cass drink last night? He’s been throwing up for the last hour.”
“Please don’t mention being sick.”
He sighed and pulled the covers off me. “Come on. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. If you were gonna be sick, you would’ve been already. I reckon Cass drank way more than you—he was already drunk by the time you started.” He helped me up, and I used him as a convenient crutch to walk to the bathroom, where I sat on the side of the bath with my pounding head in my hands while he started the shower and brought my bag in.
“I’ll wait in the bedroom. Be quick.”
“Do I have to?” I whined.
“Fucking hell, if this is what having a sister is like, I’m not sure I want one, after all,” he muttered.
“Hey!”
“Just kidding. Get your ass in the shower. Everyone’s waiting.”
“Fine.”
He walked out of the door, and I peeled my clothes off, trying not to move too much. I happened to glance at my face in the mirror over the sink as I was changing and immediately wished I hadn’t. My make-up was smeared all over my face, and I mean all over. My hair was matted and tangled, and the dark circles under my eyes just added to my overall unkempt look. Lovely.
Somehow, I managed to stumble into the shower, and by the time I was done, my head wasn’t hurting quite so much. I cleaned my teeth, washed the remaining traces of my make-up off, and dressed in the jeans and tank top I’d brought with me. I pulled a thin cardigan on top and wound my wet hair into a messy bun. That would have to do. I re-entered the bedroom to find Weston reclining on the bed, scrolling through—wait, was that my phone?