Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)(57)

lift the bottom of his shirt. He sits back up and wraps his hand around my wrist.

“Why do you care what happens to me?” Anyone just walking in might think he is sober by his tone. His grip around my wrist

tightens when I try to tug it away.

“I care what happens to you.” My nose tingles with threatening tears.

He drops my hand and takes off his shirt. “I don’t love her—Ainsley, I mean.”

“I know who you’re talking about.” I fold his shirt and put it on top of my dresser. Regan is leaning in the doorway, watching

our scene.

Bo presses his elbows into his knees and holds his head in his hands. His shoulders are tight, wrought with tension. Deep breaths

cause the black cross to swell and deflate. He sits back up, pinching the bridge of his nose before he speaks.

“I’m sorry, November.”

“Don’t be sorry. I just didn’t want you to drive dru -”

“No,” he cuts me off, “I’m sorry for everything. Fucking everything.” His speech is still slightly slurred.

I’m not having this conversation with him right now. “Just get some sleep, OK?”

The alcohol in his system forces his compliance, and he resumes his face-down position on my bed. I fetch my trashcan from the

bathroom and hand it to Regan, who places it on the floor next to the bed. Walking back to the living room, I grab my cell phone,

noting no missed calls or texts from Adrian. Five tries later, he’s still not answering my calls, and I throw my phone onto the

couch and pace to the window, pressing my head into the cool glass.

“So the rest of the party got interesting, I take it?” Regan enters the room and sinks into the couch. I tell Regan about Bo

playing “Better Man” and the ensuing drunk hijinks that followed.

“Real nice of C.J. to help me out at Lost Dog, by the way,” I kid as I plunk next to him.

“He’s an ass. I can’t believe you got Bo to the car by yourself ...” Regan trails off as he puts his arm around my shoulders.

“What?” I look up at him to finish his thought.

He stares at his knees and furrows his brow for a moment before speaking. I know that what’s coming is real. “His shit with

Ainsley—”

“Regan, don’t.” I lean forward, “I told you I didn’t want to know anything.”

“Just be quiet and listen. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing to tell if I even wanted to. Whenever I’ve been at their house,

he’s always in the studio...alone. He doesn’t ever really go anywhere.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Honestly? Because you carried that drunk giant out of the bar, all the while not knowing where your “boyfriend” is.” Air

quotes and all.

“Regan?

“Yeah?”

The words elbow each other for pole position in my throat. My eyes cast downward and Regan places his finger under my chin, forcing

me to look back at him.

“Ember, what is it?”

I close my eyes as a single tear slides along the outline of my nose and falls onto my lip. I feel his thumb wipe it away as he

pulls me into a hug.

“I know,” he whispers.





Chapter Twenty-Five



Bo



My head pounds in rhythm with a bang on a door.

Shit, where am I?

I peel my eyes open and blink around in disbelief. I’m in November’s bedroom. Looking to either side of me, I quickly put

together that I slept here alone last night—judging by the undisturbed covers. I hear the apartment door creak open slowly and

muffled greetings become louder.

“Where the hell were you all night?” She sounds exhausted.

“Pace drove down and picked me up. He just dropped me off to get my car.”

Turner.

Blood races through my veins at the sound of his tone with her. I don’t remember much about last night, but I don’t need to

remember anything to know he’s been a dick.

“Is he here? Those are his shoes, aren’t they?” His volume rises, and with it, the hair on the back of my neck.

“I said he could stay here.” I can tell by her tone that she doesn’t care for his.

“Yeah,” the pompous ass interjects, “and I said he couldn’t.”

“Well, good thing this is my apartment then, huh? There’s no way I was going to let him drive home last night with how drunk he

was. If anything happened...I couldn’t do that to Rae ...” I wonder if she’s starting to cry based on the tightness in her

voice, but their continuing argument erases those thoughts.

“Wait, he’s in your f*cking bedroom?” I start to sit up when I hear Adrian walk through the kitchen. She stops him.

“Look at me, Adrian, I’m in the same damn clothes I wore last night, and I haven’t slept. You wouldn’t return my calls, I was

afraid Bo had alcohol poisoning, and I put him in my bed because he’s too big for my couch. What do you think happened here?”

Ember’s yelling now.

“You don’t think it’s inappropriate for you to take your ex-boyfriend home and for me to find him in your bed the next morning?