Since I don’t have anyone to escort out of my house, I turn back around, crumpling on the closed toilet lid. The tears come easily as I drop my head into my hands. What was I thinking last night, getting so drunk that I have no idea how I got home?
I cry even harder when it hits me that I may have driven my own car in this condition. Of all the families I’ve seen destroyed with DUIs, I can’t stomach the idea of putting people in danger that way.
“Do you remember what happened last night?”
I choke on a sob, jerking my head up to see a frowning Ethan Packwood standing in my open bathroom door.
“Last night?” I shake my head. “Did we—”
“Fuck no, Faith. I’m not the type of man… I wouldn’t… Fuck. No, we didn’t.” He runs both hands over the top of his head, clearly frustrated, but I can sense it’s with the situation and not with me in particular. “How are you feeling?”
“Like absolute shit. I don’t normally get so drunk.” I say the words because I want him to know that I acted out of character last night.
“You didn’t get drunk, Faith. Your drink was drugged.”
I shake my head, the action making it throb even more. “Drugged?”
He nods. “Do you not remember the guy in the blue shirt?”
“I remember going to Jake’s to meet Sylvie, but I can’t remember any details. What hap—”
My words stop when a beautiful woman pops around the corner, joining Ethan in the doorway.
“She doesn’t remember anything,” Ethan explains to the woman, and I hate the look of sympathy on her face.
“I’m Brynn Sullivan,” she says with a soft smile as she steps fully into the room, holding her hand out to me. “The guys call me Slick.”
“You’re Cerberus?”
She nods. “Despite never having ridden on a motorcycle. Crazy, huh?”
I shake her hand weakly, my eyes darting back to Ethan. Thankfully, I’m with it enough not to ask her how she got the name, but I have a few ideas running through my head. The woman is toned and fit, and I’m sure the guys at the clubhouse love having her around.
I see nothing in Ethan’s eyes that hint at him being ashamed with her being here with him.
“Once we knew you had been drugged, we got you out of there,” Slick says.
“Within minutes. I want you to know that. He didn’t even get a chance,” Ethan adds.
I nod, my throat threatening to close. I’m always so careful when I go out. I don’t know what changed last night to prevent me from watching my drink.
“Sylvie?”
“She’s fine. She gave me your address. I wanted to take you to the hospital, but you were adamant about not going. Would you like me to take you now?”
I shake my head, my attention hyperfocusing on Slick as she places her hand on his shoulder. “I’m going back out into the kitchen. Faith, do you mind if I make a pot of coffee? It was a long night.”
I look from Ethan to the other woman, noticing her watching me over her shoulder.
“That’s fine,” I manage.
She walks away, and despite their familiarity, he keeps his eyes on me. Another wave of nausea threatens, and I hate that it has more to do with imagining them being together than whatever may be left in my system.
“Did you have sex with her in my house?” My eyes widen when the words leave my mouth. I only imagined saying them. I never fully intended for them to escape.
“No,” he answers, but gives me nothing else. “The man who drugged you was arrested last night, but you’ll still have to go to the station and file a report. They’re expecting you at some point today.”
Why was I hoping that he’d assure me that nothing was going on between the two of them? She’s beautiful, so I can’t fault him for wanting her. I just don’t know why the thought of them together has the ability to eat away at me. He flirted with me and asked me out. I turned him down without questioning it. Now, it bothers me?
Planning to blame the drugs, I look up at Ethan and nod.
“We researched this online, and it says you shouldn’t drive for a few days until you feel like yourself again.”
We researched it online.
I give him a weak smile.
“I’ll have Sylvie take me,” I tell him when he doesn’t offer to give me a ride himself. I guess helping me last night is enough, and Slick would have a problem with him getting me to the police station. If he were mine, I’d have a problem with him showing so much attention to another woman. He’s not mine, and I’m already feeling a little salty about her being here with him.
“We stayed the night to make sure you were okay.”