“I see.”
“And I didn’t get my smile.”
“What?”
“Every day. I try to get you to smile every day. It’s like a little bonus.”
“You’re not making any sense, Julian.”
I turned and faced her fully, our knees pressed together. I could feel the warmth of her skin through the material of my pants. I wanted to touch her to see if it was as soft as I thought it would be, but I refrained. “You always look sad. I like it when you smile. I like it when I make you smile. Really smile. Not like the fake ones you have to put on here or when you say hi to the guys.”
“There’s a difference?” she asked quietly.
“Yes. Your eyes change. Such beautiful eyes,” I murmured. “So mesmerizing.”
She blinked and slid off the stool. “I have to get back.”
“Already?”
“I have to use the restroom. I only get a short break.”
She hurried away, and I signaled the other bartender for another scotch, determined to sip this one slowly. Unlike Tally, she didn’t care how many I’d had and filled my glass.
Tally returned, frowning at me again. “No more scotch, Julian.”
I waved my finger. “You’re not smiling.”
“I’m getting you coffee.”
The other bartender came over and said something to Tally. She glanced my way and leaned close. “I have to help in the kitchen. Stop drinking, Julian. Please.”
I nodded. “Coffee.”
“Yes.” She poured me a cup and slid it my way. “Behave.”
She disappeared, and suddenly, it all came back. The images, the horrible building we raided. The scared teenagers who should have been out with their friends at the mall, not locked in a place where they were forced to do things no kid should ever have to do. The faces of the heartless men and women who had torn them from their lives. Lives they would be returned to, yet never be the same. I had relished watching the perpetrators die, although tonight, I hadn’t pulled the trigger myself. I wasn’t sure what that said about my own mind-set, but I never felt guilt when I killed the scum that committed the crimes.
And as soon as Tally was gone, it all hit me again. I lifted my hand, catching the eye of the other bartender.
“Scotch. Now.”
I woke up, blinking and confused. I scanned the room, recognizing my apartment. Everything looked normal, and aside from the splitting headache, I seemed to be in one piece. I had no idea how I got home. And something was different.
It took me a moment to realize someone was in bed with me. I had been asleep on top of someone, my head resting in their lap and my arms around them tightly.
I swallowed, trying not to groan.
What had I done? Picked up some strange woman and brought her back here? Fucked her?
My stomach lurched.
I had done that in front of Tally? I couldn’t hold back my groan of disgust this time.
“How’s your head?” a soft voice whispered above me. A voice I recognized.
Tally was in bed with me. Tally was in my apartment, in my bed. I was asleep on top of her.
Jesus—what had I done?
“Throbbing and confused,” I mumbled. I pushed myself up and, with a moan, fell back on my pillow. I looked over at her, drinking in the sight of her, half sitting, half lying in my bed. Her hair spread around my pillow like wildfire. Her blue eyes looked sleepy, and a huge part of me felt relieved when I noticed she still had on her green T-shirt and I wore the T-shirt I’d had on under my sweater last night. But how had we gotten here? I searched my memory, but all I got was a scotch-hazed image of Tally pulling my hand and telling me to behave.
“I’m afraid to ask,” I admitted.
She pulled herself up and crossed her arms in vexation. “You disobeyed me and drank way too much scotch. I gave Lillian shit about how much she let you drink. She said you seemed fine.” She snorted. “Until you tried to get off the barstool and fell face-first onto the floor.”
“Oh.” I vaguely recalled something about trying to stand.
“I found your keys and looked at your wallet for your address. I brought you home and only meant to make sure you got inside safely, but you refused to let me go. You kept asking me to stay. You said I made it all go away.”
“Oh,” I repeated. It was the truth. She made things better. Easier.
“I finally got you in here and went to get you some Tylenol and water. You kicked off your shoes and pants. You got your sweater stuck trying to pull it over your head.” Her lips quirked, then she frowned again. “I helped you, and you fell into bed. I gave you the pills and tried to leave, but you grabbed my hand. Asked me to sit with you.” She sighed. “You sort of curled up and put your head in my lap. I stroked your head, and you seemed to like it. It relaxed you and you fell asleep. I thought you’d move and I’d leave, but you never did. I couldn’t get you to unlock your arms. I guess I fell asleep too.”