Stay with Me (With Me in Seattle 9)

“I didn’t say that,” she says and dissolves into giggles. “That’s kind of pervy.”

“He has a stellar dick,” I reply as my phone pings.

Not happening, even for you. Are you drunk?

“He asked if I’m drunk.”

We stare at each other and then dissolve into more laughter.

“My fingers don’t work well, so I’m just gonna call him.”

“Good idea.”

The phone only rings once when he picks up.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fantastic. Hi.”

“Hi, baby.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes me gooey.

“You’re sexy.”

“Thank you. So, on a scale of one to ten, how drunk are you?”

“Oh, I’m like a seven.” I hiccup and then scratch my nose again. The fucker is so itchy! “I don’t think I should come home tonight.”

“She’ll stay with me,” Anastasia yells out.

“Good plan,” Wyatt says.

“I miss your penis,” I inform him, and Stasia snorts loudly. “Like, you should send me a picture.”

“No way,” he says and laughs. “You can see it tomorrow.”

“So far away,” I reply with a sigh. “I didn’t realize you were mean.”

“Damn, you’re wasted. Get some sleep, baby.”

“He calls me baby,” I inform Anastasia, who’s just watching me with a sleepy smile. “Okay, see you tomorrow. Love you and your penis.”

I hang up and toss my phone on the ottoman.

“He’s good for you,” she says.

“Yeah. I think I’m good for him, too.”

“I think so.” She yawns. “We should go to bed. I’m so tired.”

“Where am I sleeping?”

She blinks in surprise and then shrugs one shoulder. “Looks like you’re bunking with me.”

“We used to do that a lot as kids, remember?”

“You’re a bed hog,” she says as she leads me into her bedroom. She tosses me a clean T-shirt, and we change, then climb into her king-sized bed and snuggle down. I scooch over and hug her from behind. “Jesus, I forgot how much you like to snuggle. Get off of me.”

“I need to snuggle.” Yeah, I sound whiny. I don’t care. “I have to be able to sleep.”

“You can sleep without having your cold feet and hands all over me.” She laughs and shoves me away. “Go away.”

“No.” I hold onto her tightly. “I’m gonna make you snuggle me. I’m your baby sister, and I need you.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

“Love you, sissy.”

“Love you, too.”

My car won’t fucking start.

Strike that. Jules’ car won’t start. I’m staring at it as if it’s betrayed me and sigh heavily. I’m hungover so badly, I can barely see. Anastasia has more work today, so she can’t run me home.

So, I call my knight in shining armor.

“Good morning,” he says, and I pull the phone away from my head, scowling at it.

“There’s no need to yell, Wyatt.”

He laughs, and I scowl deeper.

“What’s up, sweetheart?”

“Jules’ car won’t start. Can you please come get me?”

“Of course.” I can hear commotion on his end. “Just text me the address.”

“Can’t you be psychic just this once so I don’t have to actually move?”

“You must be in rough shape this morning,” he says with a chuckle. “Unfortunately, I’m not psychic.”

“Okay, I’ll send it. Please hurry.”

“I’m on my way.”

~Wyatt~

I hated being away from her last night. I could have offered to go get her, but it sounded like she was having fun with her sister, and they don’t do that often enough. So instead, I missed her, worked myself into a coma, and couldn’t get out of the house fast enough to go rescue her this morning.

I’ve begun to wonder if having her permanently across the street is enough. What the fuck am I saying? Of course, it’s not enough. And some might say that it’s too soon for this, but I want her to live with me. I want her things mixed with mine. She’s already all over my home. Her scent is on my bed sheets. Her stuff in my shower.

I can’t be there without seeing her everywhere.

It just makes sense to ask her to move in. If she’s not ready, I can be a patient man until she is, but I hope it doesn’t take long.

I want her. Always.

The GPS guides me to Anastasia’s building in Bellevue, and there’s Amelia, waiting for me. She looks a bit grouchy. Her hair isn’t brushed, and it’s down around her face. She looks small, her arms crossed over her chest.

Frankly, she looks miserable.

“Hey,” she says as she climbs into my car and braces her head in her hand. “You’re breathing really loudly.”

I chuckle and reach around her to pull her seatbelt over her, then kiss her temple gently.

“Did you take anything?” I ask softly.

“Yeah, just now. It should kick in soon.”

I pull out of the parking lot, headed for the I-90 toward Seattle.

“It sounded like you had fun.”

“We did,” she says. “But Stasia wouldn’t snuggle me, the bitch. She’s never been much of a snuggler.”

She smacks her lips. “Why does wine always do this? My mouth is dry. And I forgot my damn sunglasses in Jules’ car.”

I take off my glasses and pass them to her. She glances up in surprise. “You need them more than me right now. Here.”

“Thanks.” She slips them on, and they slip down her nose just a bit, making me smile. “Your head is bigger than mine.”

“I have water for you, too.” I snap the top off and pass it to her.

“And there you go, taking care of me again,” she murmurs. She opens her purse, then sighs and tips back her head.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you want the list?”

I grin over at her before merging over a lane. “Of course.”

“I didn’t put my lip balm in my purse.”

“Here.” I open the center console and pass her some lip balm.

“You’re so sweet,” she says softly. “And I’m sorry that I’m too hungover to be properly thankful.”

“You’re fine,” I assure her, patting her thigh. “I’m sorry that you’re miserable.”

“I should know better,” she says and shrugs one shoulder. “Wine always does this. I could drink tequila until the sun comes up and feel fine after. But wine is a bitch, who likes to make me feel like someone’s squeezing my head with a vise.”

“Sip your water. You’re dehydrated.”

“Yes, Dr. Crawford.”

I wink at her and merge onto the 520, headed toward home.

“We’ll get you in a hot shower, and I’ll make you something to eat, and you’ll feel better.”

“If I want to take a nap, will you snuggle me?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” I assure her. “I’m glad that you and Anastasia had time together. You don’t usually do that.”

“We used to,” she says. “We’ve always been close. But after I married my ex, we grew apart. Vinnie didn’t like my family, and he wasn’t a fan of us spending a lot of time together. Which really wasn’t a problem because I lived in L.A. and Anastasia lived in San Francisco until recently. I got out of the habit of calling her and confiding in her. It’s been really great to get that back.”