ChapterTwenty-Two
Ronan rolled over to the sound of his phone. He cracked an eyelid to find it still pitch black out. What the fuck?
“Hello?”
“Hey, you might want to check on your girl.”
Ronan scrubbed at his face and sat up. “What?” He held the phone away from his face, saw that it was Brendan, whose voice registered even as he was checking. Then he scanned for missed calls or texts. Nothing.
Putting the phone back to his ear, he heard Brendan saying something. “Repeat that, man. I was sound asleep.”
“I got a call from Chloe. She was drunk and with some guy.”
He jumped out of bed and reached for his jeans. “Where was she? And why the fuck was she calling you instead of me?”
“Stop!” Brendan’s voice startled him. “She wasn’t in danger. The guy said he was a friend, she said she was fine, but she was drunk. And pissed off at you.”
“Pissed off at me for what?”
“She didn’t say, but I’m guessing it’s because you didn’t invite her to the party like I told you.”
He really didn’t need Brendan’s smug I told you so.
“I’m suggesting that you check in on her, that’s all. I’m sure she’s fine.”
“Yeah, thanks.” He disconnected, beyond irritated that she called Brendan. He dialed her number as he finished getting dressed. Of course, she didn’t answer. He grabbed his keys and texted. Are you okay?
He was in his truck before he got a response.
Fine.
He started the engine. Chloe, who always had something to say, sent him a one-word text. He didn’t know if that meant she was pissed or if he should be worried. Without thinking, he drove to her apartment. Finding parking this late wasn’t easy, so he ended up parking on the main street and walking down the block. As he neared her apartment, he heard her laughter echoing down the street.
The streetlights were dim, but he could make out two figures on the sidewalk in front of her building. He sped his pace and forced himself not to overreact. Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe it wasn’t some guy practically carrying her.
He was in front of the neighbor’s house when he heard her say, “The lock’s still broken. Just turn the knob.”
“Chloe,” he called.
The man with his arms all over her shifted so they both turned to face him. “What’re you doing here?” she asked at the same time he said, “Who the fuck are you?”
“Nunya business,” she slurred.
The guy sighed deeply. “Look, dude. I work with her and I’m just giving her a ride home.”
She patted his chest and then pressed a finger to her lips. “Shhh!”
“Come on,” Ronan said, holding out a hand.
She curled tighter to the guy. “I didn’t ask you to come here.”
“No. You called my brother.”
“Damn Brendan.” She wrapped an arm around the guy’s waist. “Johnny is taking me up to bed.”
One look at Johnny’s pained expression told Ronan everything he needed to know. She was playing games.
“Fine. You have fun with Johnny.”
“What?” she screeched, shoving away from Johnny.
“You obviously decided that what we have isn’t important. You get drunk and are more comfortable calling my brother than me. Then you have Johnny here take care of you. Looks like I’m not needed.”
“I called Brendan because he lets me make my own decisions. He doesn’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m a grown woman. If I want to help a friend by doing something that’s not totally legal, that’s my choice. If I want to get shitfaced, my perog—prerog—decision.” Her entire body wove back and forth.
“You’re right, Chloe. You can do whatever the fuck you want, but I won’t be part of it. I can’t take the blame for your bad decisions. Once was more than enough for me.”
“No one’s asking you to. And you can’t tell me you’re out. I’m out. I told you this wasn’t supposed to be a thing. So you don’t get to break up with me.”
“Hey, maybe you should wait till tomorrow for this conversation before you say something you’ll regret,” Johnny said.
Ronan shook his head. “That’s okay. She’s right. We’re not supposed to work out. She’s made that clear.”
He turned to walk toward his truck. He shouldn’t have pushed a conversation in the middle of the night with a drunk woman, but she had a way of pressing every one of his damn buttons. He also knew that drunks didn’t make shit up. More often than not, their truth came spilling out, so he doubted Chloe would have any regrets tomorrow.
He, on the other hand, already felt the heartache settling in. He’d known that Chloe would probably never be his for good, but he’d believed he’d have longer than this. He climbed in his truck and pointed home.
Chloe McCarthy had been nothing but trouble for him his whole life. Why the hell did he think that sleeping with and falling in love with her would change that?
He swerved over the line with the thought. Damn. He was more tired than he thought. Love? He had feelings for Chloe. But they hadn’t been together long enough for anything so serious.
That was his story and he was sticking to it.