CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GRANT
T he night’s chaos fades into a steady hum of the party around me, but my focus stays on Lina.
Watching her, the way she moves, it feels different.
There’s something off about the way she’s acting, even though she’s the same person.
And maybe it’s the vision of her so carefree—wearing lingerie while dancing in my living room—clouding my thoughts, but tonight it feels like a different version of her. One I’ve never seen before.
It might also be because she’s drunk. The alcohol flooding her system has lessened her inhibitions, and I love seeing her in this light because of how much more authentic she seems. Like this is a more real version of her that she hides behind her normally uptight one.
Her robe, which I can’t stop looking at despite my best efforts, is no longer hiding the woman beneath it, and my eyes keep dragging back to her every time I try to focus on something else.
I watch as she tosses back another drink, grimacing at the taste but not slowing down.
It’s like she’s trying to forget something.
It’s clear in the way she keeps to herself and makes sure her gaze never stays on anyone for too long, like she’s waiting for something to happen.
I wonder if it has something to do with the hospital or her not sleeping.
All the things she asked me to forget happened.
And then she locks eyes with me from across the room.
For a moment, there’s nothing but that pull between us—the burn of shared silence—and it hits me harder than any insult she could shoot my way. I swallow, feeling the same burn in my throat, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this strange feeling that’s sitting heavy on my chest.
I find myself thinking, “ This is why I find myself so attracted to her.” That sass of hers, coupled with how she pretends to hate me, is the type of sex appeal I’ve never found in any other woman. My cock notices just as much as my mind does.
The crowd around me is loud, the buzz of music and voices all blending into one unrecognizable noise. I catch sight of her again as she stumbles, barely catching herself on the counter, but I’m already moving before I can stop myself.
“Lina,” I call, my voice louder than I intend, and it cuts through the noise. She doesn’t look at me, still focused on not spilling her drink. But her back stiffens. “You okay?”
She looks over her shoulder and meets my eyes, narrowing them like she’s unsure whether she wants to answer. For a moment, there’s hesitation, the kind of pause where I can almost feel the wall she’s erecting between us.
“I’m fine, Grant,” she says, but it’s not convincing. It never is when she’s lying.
I walk up to Lina slowly, and the air between us feels thick. I’m aware of her robe—of the way her hands clutch the edges like they’re her only defense against everyone here. Against me.
“Yeah?” I lean in slightly, watching her. “Doesn’t look like it.”
She shrugs and takes another sip of her drink, the liquid sloshing in her cup.
“I’m fine,” she repeats, louder this time, but there’s a slight tremor in her voice.
She’s fading fast, losing herself in the alcohol, trying to mask something.
“You know, you really shouldn’t be staring at me like that. ”
I can’t help it. “Like what?”
“Like you want to do something.”
I’m already close enough that I could touch her if I wanted to, but I don’t. Not yet. “I’m not the one who showed up looking like a damn angel in lingerie.”
Lina’s cheeks go red, but she doesn’t seem to care. She lifts the cup again and drinks half of it in one go. “That is what Eden was going for: an angel.”
“You didn’t need the costume.” I can’t keep my grin hidden anymore.
“I thought you said the devil would suit me better?” Her words are starting to slur together, and I’m just grateful that Braxton and Cam have already started corralling people out of the house, putting the party to an end.
“I did. But right now, you look like heaven.” I step closer, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “And now I’m not so sure I’d survive either one.”
Lina’s hand flies over my mouth, like by doing so it would force me to take back what I said. “Stop smiling,” she reprimands softly, her voice breathy. “You’re not supposed to be flirting with me.”
“Says who?” I say against her hand.
She narrows those doe eyes, the dark amber shade making my chest tighten when they meet my gaze. She removes her hand and answers, “Says the fact that we hate each other.”
“Hate’s a strong word.”
Instead of responding, she goes to take another gulp of her drink. I grab her wrist, though, and take the cup gently from her hand and set it on the counter. “Okay, that’s enough,” I say, not unkindly. “You’re done.”
Lina doesn’t even argue, and that’s how I know she’s truly down for the count.
“You good?” I ask, quieter now. My hands hover near her waist, not quite touching her. I don’t want her to feel trapped, but I’m not going to let her fall either.
She looks up at me, eyes glassy and a little too honest. “You always show up at the worst time, Grant.”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to smile, even though my chest tightens at the way she says my name. “I do that on purpose.”
“I mean it,” Lina whispers, swaying slightly. “You always show up when I’m trying not to feel anything. Yet, you’re usually saving me at the same time.”
And then, before I can respond, she leans in. Her forehead rests against my chest, and her fingers curl around my bicep like she’s afraid of falling through the floor.
I don’t move. I let her be.
She exhales slowly, like maybe being still is the hardest thing she’s done all night. “I’m so tired, Grant.”
She’s not just talking about right now. Her words ring through the air like they have a permanent meaning, and something deep in my stomach churns at the idea of her still being this exhausted all the time, even after the hospital incident.
I nod, and even though she can’t see it, my chin still knocks against the top of her head. “I know.”
I wrap an arm around her shoulders, steady and firm, guiding her toward the stairs before she can say anything else that’ll undo us both. Her steps are uneven, but she doesn’t fight me and instead lets me lead.
It’s at that moment I make a decision that could very easily have disastrous consequences. “I’m taking you to bed, alright?”
Lina looks up at me, her brows furrowing in surprise. “Woah, woah—” Her voice comes out drunkenly loud, which makes her eyes widen at the sound.
“Not like that, Lina. I mean, I’m taking you upstairs so you can go to sleep. ”
She relaxes the tiniest bit back into my touch, and it suddenly becomes much easier for me to lead her up the stairs toward one of the guest bedrooms.
I’m not sure how this is going to go, given her current sleep strike, but I’m willing to give it a shot.
Plus, her being drunk is somehow making her easier to handle and more relaxed in my presence. If she has any chance of going to sleep, now seems like the perfect time.
By now, almost everyone is gone from the main floor, and the house has settled into a kind of eerie quiet, the only sounds being the creak of the stairs beneath our feet and the faint thump of bass still humming from a speaker someone forgot to turn off.
Lina’s weight leans further into me with each step, her exhaustion folding in on itself like a wave finally breaking. I guide her into the room, flipping the light on low. It’s dim, warm, and just enough to see by.
She hesitates in the doorway, blinking like she doesn’t quite recognize where she is. Her voice is soft and tentative. “This is a rental house, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I say, steering her gently toward the bed. “You can crash here. I’ll take the couch.”
She plops down on the edge, robe shifting slightly, and I look away fast, like it’ll make a difference. She notices, of course.
I don’t address it and instead head toward the door.
“Wait,” I hear her call, her words fumbling over themselves.
Confused, I turn back around to face her. She’s still sitting on the very edge of my bed, not making any move to make herself more comfortable. “Yeah?”
“Will you stay?” Her voice comes out wobbly, and if I hadn’t been watching her drink all night, it would be the first true indicator of how drunk she is.
Under any normal circumstance, Lina would have never said that. Only in times like these is she willing to let her guard down and let me stay.
When I don’t respond right away, her eyes fill with tears. “Please?”
I crumble under her plea.
Wordlessly, I step back into the room, closing the door behind me. The click sounds louder than it should. She watches me with glassy eyes and smudged mascara, her bottom lip wobbling like she’s trying to hold it all together and failing miserably.
“I’ll stay. Don’t worry.”
Then, I toe off my shoes and cross the room, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under our weight, but we don’t touch. She’s staring at her hands in her lap as if they hold answers she’s not ready to speak aloud.
Silence wraps around us, thick and strange. I can feel her unraveling beside me, even as she tries to hold it together.
“I didn’t used to be like this, you know,” Lina says suddenly, her voice striking the quiet like a match to gasoline.
“Like what?”
“This messy. This broken.” Her words are slurred but sharp. “I used to be the girl who held shit together. Who smiled politely at funerals and thanked everyone for coming.”
“Funerals?”
She snorts, like she’s laughing at some private, horrible joke. “My mom’s. Last year.” Her voice goes glassy. “I gave the eulogy. Shook hands with every distant cousin and colleague of hers I’d never met. Smiled through it all.”
A pause. She draws in a shaky breath.
“And then I found out my boyfriend had been cheating on me,” she says, too casually. “At the wake. Walked in on him and my best friend in my bedroom.”