6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Violet
After drinking my last cup of tea, I reluctantly open the door of The Reading Grounds . I’m not quite ready to return to the hotel and have it out with my friends, but I have no choice. I need somewhere to sleep tonight, and my lack of a job means I can't afford my own room again, so it's time to claim my bed.
The afternoon air is a little chilly, and I pull my thin jacket tight around me as I try to remember which direction the hotel is in. I'm so distracted that I don't see the two-hundred-pound wall of muscle coming at me until I'm almost knocked over.
A strong hand grips my upper arm, keeping me from falling straight on my butt on the cold sidewalk. "I'm sorry about that," he apologizes in a gravelly voice. "Well, hello, gorgeous."
I don't pay attention because the guy who knocked into me has his arm around Brooks.
"Anderson, if you don't get your hand off Violet right now, I will knock your fucking teeth down your throat," Brooks snarls, glaring at the guy holding him up. He turns to me with a goofy grin. "Hello, beautiful."
My mouth opens and closes wordlessly in my now-perfect impression of a floundering fish. Shocked, I finally stammer, "W-why are you holding him up?" I direct my question to Anderson, but my eyes are locked on Brooks, who appears to be swaying. "Is he drunk?"
"No, nothing like that, doll...er, Violet," Anderson corrects himself quickly, glancing at Brooks, who glares at him again.
Hey, I'm talking to a guy. Yes! And he's cute. Not my type, but unequivocally attractive. Although, it's hard to notice when he's holding up the sex on a plate man who has described in vivid detail everything he would like to do to my naked body.
But something's wrong. Brooks' deep chocolate eyes are bloodshot and hooded like he needs sleep.
I glare at Anderson, placing my cold hands on my cheeks to cool the heat. "Why do his eyes look like that?"
"He needs some rest, is all." Anderson gives me a grin that probably works on a lot of women, but I'm not in the mood.
"Excuse me, but what the fuck did you do to Brooks?" I jam my hands on my hips and narrow my eyes at the tall, blond, muscled dude in front of me, voicing my question without a hitch.
Anderson startles at my tone, but I continue to glare at him, demanding an answer. To be fair, I'm unsure where I’ve summoned my attitude and commanding tone from, but I need to know what the fuck is going on here. Something about Brooks being in trouble and his friend being responsible for it snaps me out of my signature awkwardness.
"I ate cookies!" Brooks yells, tipping forward.
Anderson catches him, shifting him higher on his arm and looking around furtively. There is still a crowd at the event across the street, and people are coming and going around us.
"W-what?" I stare at Brooks, who blinks like he fell asleep for a second. "What kind of cook—"
"Violet, Brooks is gonna to pass out soon,” Anderson cuts me off. “I need to get him home before he does because he's built like a linebacker."
Anderson takes a step forward, but Brooks refuses to move as he continues to stare at me with a goofy grin.
"Why's he going to pass out?" I ask worriedly, even as my stomach flutters under Brooks' avid attention. "Oh, my god. Let's get him to the hospital."
"No, no, no," Anderson says quickly. "It's not—" He shakes his head. "He ate some of my roommate's pot cookies. Accidentally. Not that Brooks is a teetotaler, but he's not good with losing control, so he doesn't usually partake in the special cookies."
"Oh, okay." I nod, biting my lip, still worried about Brooks. "How many did he eat?"
"Four!" Brooks yells, still beaming at me.
"Four?" Anderson and I say in unison, staring at Brooks in disbelief.
Brooks is distracted as he tries to raise four fingers in confirmation.
"I'm going to kill Milo," Anderson grits out as he tries to drag Brooks forward.
I look at Anderson. "I'm going with you. He shouldn't be alone."
Anderson hesitates. He must realize I'm not about to budge, so he nods and hands me a set of keys. "His truck is down the street."
Together, we get Brooks into the back of his truck. I squeeze in next to him, cradling his body while Anderson drives us to Brooks’ house a little way up the mountain. His head rests in the crook of my shoulder and he nuzzles into me like he's trying to burrow his way home.
By the time we get him inside, Anderson barely makes it to his bed before Brooks closes his eyes.
"Are you sure we shouldn't take him to the hospital?" I ask again as I shift from foot to foot in the doorway of Brooks' bedroom.
"They won't be able to do anything. He'll be okay," Anderson reassures me.
I nod absently, watching Brooks' chest rise and fall.
Anderson stops by the doorway, leaning in close. "I'm calling a ride. Do you need me to drop you off somewhere? I’m headed to McGurdy’s for a bit if you want a drink."
"Anderson," Brooks growls in warning from the bed. "Violet is not going anywhere with you."
Anderson chuckles, winking at me as he heads out of the room to order his car.
I stay in the doorway, watching Brooks sleep.
"Goodnight, Brooks. Goodnight, lovely Violet," Anderson calls a few minutes later before the door shuts behind him with a thud.
Miraculously, I find myself walking toward Brooks. I touch his forehead, brush back his dark hair, and run my fingers through the thick strands. I stare at him, anxiously chewing my lip. My worry over his health is stronger than my desire to run, but it's not making my voice work any better.
Brooks opens his eyes, goofy grin back in place as he grabs my hand, his thumb rubbing my skin. "Violet, can you stay with me tonight? I promise I won't do anything. I want you here with me."
My heart races. The thought of spending the night with Brooks was a dream out of reach this morning. This moment of fate is giving me one more chance not to run. To try to find a way to talk to him.
I pull my hand away, and for a moment, disappointment flashes across his face—until he sees me slipping off my shoes. My stomach flutters when his smile returns. I step closer to the bed, hesitating as I figure out where he wants me. Anderson has managed to get Brooks settled on one side, but the other is pushed against the wall. If I’m going to lie down, I’ll have to climb over him—and I’m not sure I can make myself do it.
In one swift move, Brooks scoops me around the waist, drags me over him, and settles me against his front as he spoons me. His powerful arm locks around my chest, his leg loops over my hip, and he pulls me into the hollow of his body.
I've never felt so safe in my life. True to his word, Brooks doesn't touch me sexually at all, which is disappointing for all my lady parts but exactly what my heart aches for tonight. It's pure affection, and I burrow into him like he's a warm, dry cave in a snowstorm.
As my eyes flutter closed, I swear I hear him mumble, "You’re mine ," before I drift off into blissful sleep in the arms of my dream man.