What He Really Feels (He Feels Trilogy) (37 page)

“He’s my brother.”

“What?” My face swung to Lindsay’s.

“Hunter, I’d like you to meet Travis, the guy I’ve been seeing.
Travis, my brother Hunter.”

Fuck.

Great first impression.

Hunter grinned at me, and something about him was leering and scummy. I vaguely remembered having a conversation about her family and Lindsay mentioning that one of her brothers was a douche. I knew immediately that this was the one.

“Sorry, man,” I said, holding my hand out to shake his.

“This one’s a little possessive, sis,” Hunter said to Lindsay, looking at my hand for a moment as if contemplating whether or not to shake it. He did, eventually.

“It’s mutual,” she said, winking at me.

I wasn’t yet down from the adrenaline rush of the anger, so I couldn’t
wink back playfully.

Seeing another man wrapped around Lindsay, regardless of the circumstance, awakened a new feeling in me that left me absolutely certain that there would never be another woman for
me. Ever. I would never feel as strongly for anybody else, never feel the need to protect or love or cherish or adore like I did with her.

I took a deep breath and downed the entire contents of my bottle, stalking back to the bar for a second. Lindsay followed behind me, but I didn’t realize it until I felt the length of her body up against my back.

“You okay, Tiger?” she asked quietly.

I took another breath.
“Yeah. I just need a minute.”

“That was ferocious.”

“Part of the tiger in me, I guess,” I said.

She grinned. “You really wanted to kick his ass.”

“I wanted to fuck his face up beyond recognition,” I admitted.

“He’s the douche brother.”

“I figured.” The bartender brought me my next bottle and I paid him.

“Good first impression with my family.”

“That was my immediate thought, too.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, turning to head back to the table.

I grabbed her arm to stop her. “I would only worry if I upset you.”

She kissed my lips lightly. “You didn’t. I can only imagine what it looked like. But regardless of whether it’s my brother or some other guy, you have nothing to worry about. I’m yours.”

“Mine,” I reiterated fiercely.  

We headed back to the table only to find Pen wrapped around Hunter, his lips on hers. Lindsay looked over at me with wide eyes.

“Shit,” she muttered. “Not this again.”

And that was when I remembered her telling me why her brother was a douche.

“Ready to go?” I asked.

“Yes, but I can’t leave Pen.”

I nodded, understanding her need to take care of her friend even though I was ready to get the hell out of there.

After we finished our drinks, w
e headed to the bar for another round. Lindsay ordered a double, saying, “If I have to see my brother hanging himself all over my best friend, I’m going to need some alcohol to get through it.”

I stopped after my third since I had to drive, but Lindsay kept going. We grabbed a table and sat while we watched Pen and Hunter on the dance floor.

“M for music,” she said once we were settled into our table. I sipped a glass of water while she worked on her fourth drink.

“I like pretty much everything.
Rock, country, whatever.”

“I pegged you for a techno dance music guy,” she teased.

“Right. That’s probably the one I like least. Or screamo.”

“What the hell is
screamo?”

“I don’t know. I heard it being described at work one day.
Sounds miserable. What do you like?”

“My music library is very eclectic, but my preference is top forty, dance, and rock.”

“I had you pegged for a country girl.”

“The only country I like is
the top forty stuff. Like Taylor Swift.”

“What’s your favorite band?”

“Maroon 5. Yours?”

“I don’t really have a top favorite. I like eighties and nineties rock.
Guns N’ Roses, maybe? I’ve been listening to a mix of songs from 2007 lately in my car, too.”

“Do you like Maroon 5?”

“Who doesn’t? The lead singer is dreamy.”

She giggled.

“This music talk reminds me. You said you sing and you promised me a song today.”

“Too loud in here.
Tomorrow, maybe.”

I sighed dramatically, and she giggled.
“N for night. Night or day? Preference?” I asked.

“Night, definitely.
I like being up in the morning, but I hate getting out of bed. I get pretty grumpy.”

“You never seem grumpy when you wake up next to me.”

“That because you’re usually about to get inside of me. That tends to make me smile in the morning.”

I grinned. “Good answer.”

“Truth. You? Night or day?”

“Night.
I also hate getting out of bed. Especially when I am sleeping with you in my arms.”

“
Which, by the way, has sort of become a nightly thing for us pretty quickly.”

“You’re right. And I am not really seeing an end in sight for that.”

“Me, either. I love sleeping in your arms,” she said, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand. “You’re so comfy.”

“So are you,” I murmured.

She invited me to the dance floor, and she started grinding on me immediately.

I wasn’t drunk enough to find grinding in public appropriate, but clearly Lindsay was. She was adorable as she pressed her lips to mine, grabbing my hands and pulling them to her hips. I knew she loved when I gripped her petite hips in my big hands, a feeling I also loved.

Lindsay was drunker than she’d ever been with me. In the past, the presence of a drunk girl typically meant guaranteed sex to me; but tonight, all my only concern was making sure Lindsay was okay. I wanted to take care of her, and if she wanted to get drunk and out of control, I’d be there to keep her safe.

Pen and Hunter were within spitting distance. It was awkward dancing next to my girlfriend’s brother, especially given the way they were dancing. They were way past grinding; it was erotic and dirty, a prelude to what was a slam dunk for Hunter. Poor Pen.

We headed back to the table after a few dances. Lindsay was thirsty and I was sweating.

Finally, when Lindsay was just finishing her sixth drink (not that I was keeping count), Pen came up to our table.
“We’re heading out,” she declared, her arm planted firmly around Hunter’s waist.

“Where are you heading out to?” Lindsay
asked, her words slow and slurred.

“Our place.”

Lindsay rolled her eyes.

Pen glanced at Hunter, whose eyes were definitely glazed from drinking too much. The two of them obviously weren’t driving anywhere. “Need a ride?” I asked.

“Are you ready to go?” Pen looked at the two of us.

We were waiting for you
, I wanted to say. Instead, I nodded.

“Sure,” she agreed, and the four of us made our way out to Lindsay’s
Volkswagen Jetta.

I drove three very drunk people home, and then I paused in the kitchen to grab a few bottles of water before I helped Lindsay up to her bedroom. “Helped” is a nice way of saying that I carried her and deposited her on the bed.

I handed her a bottle of water, and she drank a few sips before laying back into her pillows. She passed out almost immediately. I grabbed a warm washcloth from the bathroom and gently washed her make-up from her sleeping face. Then I pulled her out of her clothes, lifting her long enough to help her into a t-shirt so that she’d sleep more comfortably.

I drained a bottle of water myself, and not wanting to disturb my drunken girlfriend, I drifted to sleep next to her, keeping my hands to myself and thinking about how much I wanted to hold her in my arms.

Just after I had fallen asleep, I was jolted awake by a loud scream. I sat up in bed, looking around the dark room but not seeing a thing. Lindsay was snoring softly next to me. I’d never heard her snore before, so it must’ve been the effect of the alcohol.

I heard the scream again, and in my sleepy haze, it took me a moment to place the sound. It was Pen and Hunter having what sounded like one hell of a wild time.

I sighed deeply and tried to go back to sleep, but the loud screams followed by some thumping noises prevented my slumber. And then Lindsay shifted in bed. She made some strange noise somewhere between a moan and a retch, and then she bolted from the bed and I heard her empty the contents of her stomach. Four times.

I got up to check on her after the first time, but she shooed me away.

After the second time, I heard her quiet sniffles, and it broke my heart. I entered the bathroom to find her on her knees by the toilet, heaving and retching. My immediate response was to make sure she was okay.

Normally seeing someone throwing up made me feel like gagging, too, but something about seeing the woman I love so miserably sick made me want to care for her. I fisted her hair into a ponytail in my hand, holding her hair back in a cliché, as I rubbed her back while she threw up again.

Her voice was hoarse as tears silently streamed down her cheeks. I brushed them away with my thumb. “Remind me never to drink vodka again. Ever.”

“It’s okay, baby,” I murmured over and over as I did what I could to try comfort her. There wasn’t much I could do; she just had to get it out.

After the fourth time, I stood and got her bottle of water, which she took and gratefully gulped down.

“Can I get you anything?” I asked, and she shook her head.

“Advil,” she requested on second thought.

“Where is it?”

“Kitchen cabinet by the stove.”

I headed downstairs to find the cure-all, hearing the sex noises emanating from Pen’s room at an even louder volume.

I really, really wished we had stayed at my place in that moment.

From now on, we would be. And Lindsay wouldn’t be drinking vodka again.
Ever.

Friday morning was a little chaotic after my night of listening to Pen and Hunter doing it through most of the night mixed with Lindsay’s retching episode just after we’d gone to sleep. Both Lindsay and I slept through our alarm clocks, which meant no morning cup of coffee and no morning sex before work. The combination of the two missing elements of our morning along with the severe lack of sleep left me feeling extremely cranky. Lindsay was more hung over than I’d ever seen her, and that on top of a shitty night’s sleep left her feeling as crabby as me.

I suddenly saw that my sweeping romantic gesture for the weekend was in jeopardy.

We said our goodbyes and I had to stop home to change my clothes for work. I had rushed over to Lindsay’s place to make things right the day before so fast that I hadn’t thought ahead to bring clothes with me.

I glanced at the clock in my car as I pulled into my parking lot. If I rushed, I’d only be about ten minutes late to work, but that meant I still wouldn’t have time to get my coffee. So I rushed, glancing in my fridge for at least a soda to get some caffeine rolling through my system only to find, to my extreme dismay, that we were out of Dr. Pepper.

Mother fucker.

Once I arrived at work, I headed to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee only to find the coffee pot empty and the last canister of coffee beans empty and sitting on top of the garbage can.

Great.

I sat at my desk, tired and starting to form a headache from my lack of caffeine, checking through my emails and my calendar for the day. I didn’t have any meetings until 10:00, so I had a short window of time to go get the coffee that I was becoming desperate for.

I made my way toward the front door of the office only to be stopped when Spencer cut in front of me.

This day just kept getting worse.

His smug face told me that he thought his ridiculous email plan had worked. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that it nearly had. His little prank almost cost me Lindsay and probably did some permanent damage to my relationship with Julianne, who, I suddenly remembered, I still hadn’t spoken to.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“About what?”
I sighed. I didn’t want to do this when I was fully competently-minded, but without any of the addictive caffeine running through my veins, I was truly running on empty and not prepared to discuss Lindsay with her ex.

He ignored me and turned to walk to his office. I followed him on another sigh and shut the door behind me, rubbing the back of my neck. She was worth it, I kept reminding myself.

CHAPTER 19