Chapter 57
STEPHANIE
“Jeremiah?” I called out when I stepped into his apartment. The first thing I noticed was the smell of alcohol in the closed stuffiness of his apartment. The curtains and the blinds were drawn, but I noticed one curtain fluttering in a light breeze coming in off the balcony.
It was weird to think of a place the size of his being stuffy, but the air in here smelled old. And capable of getting you drunk, or at least making you high.
I made my way deeper into the apartment. There were only a few lights on, and they were dimmed to cast a warm glow but would’ve been too weak for reading without straining your eyes.
Just before I turned the corner into his living room, I heard him call out his answer. “In here.”
Calling out was a strong term for his reply. Croaking was probably more appropriate. When I walked into his living room, I could see why.
Jeremiah was a disaster. Ice prickled my extremities, and I forget to breathe for a couple of beats as shock crashed into my chest. Despite what Shawn said, I didn’t expect to find Jeremiah like this.
He was seated wide legged on his couch, his arms spread out to his sides on the backrest behind him. Head hanging just a little bit, his eyelids looked heavy and red. Like he hadn’t gotten much sleep.
A fact echoed by the disturbingly dark circles under his eyes.
A navy blue robe clung to his broad shoulders, falling open to reveal his drool-worthy torso. Any other day, I would’ve immediately and unabashedly ogled the planes and ridges of his body, wanted to trace between the defined lines of muscle with my tongue.
But this wasn’t any other day.
I barely spared a glance at his exposed upper body, except to notice that his skin was an unnatural color. My eyes slid to his, and I was surprised at the depths of despair I saw there.
Shawn was right to call me. Jeremiah really didn’t look good. A sense of shame heated my belly that I hadn’t come to him sooner, but I shook it off. Onwards and upwards. You’re here now.
The man was usually so confident and self-contained. I had no way of knowing what he was going through. It wasn’t like I was just going to arrive at his apartment and make myself at home in case he needed someone to take care of him.
“You okay?” I asked, eyeing the glass of whiskey balanced precariously between two loose fingers where he held it tipped slightly to one side on the couch. It looked like it was about to spill over any second.
He hesitated, but then surprisingly, he shook his head. “I look like shit.”
“You do.” A smile spread over my lips. “But don’t worry, you still look better than most people do when they’re at your stage.”
A frown marred the strip of skin between his dark brows. “My stage?”
My eyes narrowed as I took him in, studying how his eyes were a little glazed and unfocused. “I would say somewhere between nursing one hell of a hangover, being back to tipsy. Not quite bordering on full-on drunk yet.”
“Yet.” He brought the glass to his lips to take a deep sip. A drop of the liquid escaped from the corner of his mouth when he pulled the glass away. Before I could reach for it, he wiped it away with the back of his hand. “If all goes according to plan, I will be soon.”
“I have a better plan,” I said, sinking down next to him on the couch and gently lifting the whiskey from his hand. He speared me with an annoyed glare, but I ignored him. “How about you go take a shower? I’ll come check your bandage and change it when you’re done.”
Fingers absently reaching for his forehead as I pointed at it, he seemed mildly surprised to feel the bandage taped there. “I forgot about this.”
“It’s from the accident.” The doctors thought the cut on the upper left side of his forehead would heal completely, he’d told me after being checked out on Tuesday. Supposedly, it wouldn’t even leave much of a scar—which he’d seemed a little disappointed about at the time.
Nodding, he let the whiskey go and toyed with the edges of the bandage with his free hand. His eyes were stormy and far away before he brought his gaze back to mine. “I’ll go shower, but I don’t need your help with the bandage.”
I shrugged, knowing I was going to help him with it one way or the other. It needed a proper cleaning, and I didn’t trust his dexterity to do it right. “Sure, I only wanted to come to the bathroom to check you out when you got naked anyway.”
“Anytime.” He smirked, seeming less unsteady on his feet when he stood than I might’ve expected. “Want to join me?”
I nodded, pushing to my feet with absolutely no intention of getting in the shower with him. Sex wasn’t going to fix what he was feeling, but I wasn’t above using the confidence he had in those abilities and the mask he used them to hide behind to gain entrance to his bathroom. Where I saw a first aid kit last time I was here.
Jeremiah turned the knobs on his fancy ass shower, leaning against the stone as he fiddled with the temperature. I knelt in front of the cabinet beneath his sink, pushing past thick gray towels to the first aid kit.
When he turned to find me on my knees, he frowned in surprise but then schooled his features and flashed me a leery grin as he started tugging down his powder blue drawstring pants. “Well, if you insist.”