Chapter 30 #2
“What?” he asks as Theo’s face disappears into his neck.
Hendrix slides out, hugging her little black studded bag to her chest as she nudges the door closed with her hip. She rounds the car on unsteady feet and taps on my window.
I roll it down.
“Thanks for the lift.” She licks her lips, the red gloss staining her tongue. “I really appreciate it.”
I swallow hard. “Anytime.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be in the studio waiting for you.”
Her lips twitch.
“Okay.” She peeks over my shoulder and waves her fingers. “Bye guys.”
Ice skitters down my spine as she totters off.
“We aren’t seriously letting her stay here on her own, right?” I ask Saint and Theo who both look at me with blank expressions. “There’s no security on the door. She’s a beautiful woman, drunk, and alone, and you’re just letting her go?”
Theo tilts her head. “Hm. Funny.”
“Never even thought of that,” Saint mumbles.
When a second passes and neither of them move, I cut the engine.
“Fuck!” I shove my door open and jog after Hendrix.
She slips into the lift, the doors sliding shut before I can reach her.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, watching as it crawls up to the fourth floor.
Stairs it is then.
I take them two at a time, finding the door to her room open.
Hendrix stands at the end of the crisply made bed, her eyes creased and her lips twisted.
“Am I hallucinating?” She squints, cocking her head. “Or has all my shit gone missing?”
My mouth pops open as I glance over the completely empty room. No bags, no belongings, nothing to say she’d ever been here. “Are you sure this is your room?”
“Pretty sure.” She grabs my hand and slaps a key card into my palm. “Check the numbers for me? Everything’s a bit blurry.”
I do as she asks. “Four seven three, and this is room four seven three.”
“Huh.” She kicks her foot before spinning and stomping out of the room. “Be right back.”
I follow her back to my car, where she swings the back door open, props her hands on her hips, and gives Theo a glare that would have a lesser woman quaking in her boots.
At least it would if she wasn’t still swaying side to side.
“What did you do?” she asks.
“I told you, you aren’t staying here alone,” Theo says.
A lightbulb pops in my head, and I step up behind Hendrix, spearing Saint with my gaze. “What did you do?”
He coughs. “Theo had the great idea that while Hendrix is in town, she should just stay with us.”
“Don’t even think about blaming me,” Theo quips, an octave higher than necessary.
“You said, and I quote,” She drops her voice in a perfect grumbly imitation of her husband, “‘She’s not staying in a damn hotel, so make sure when you call her she knows she’s coming back with us. It’s not fucking safe. Not to mention, Cole will’—”
Saint claps a hand over her mouth.
“Cole will what?” I deadpan.
Saint ignores me, keeping his gaze on Hendrix. “We, as a pair, agreed that it was better for you to stay in the warehouse.”
“You stole my stuff.” Hendrix stomps her foot with a pout.
“I just moved your stuff.” Saint shrugs, lips curving. “No stealing involved, bestie.”
She softens at the use of their old nickname.
“Can you two just get in the car please?” Theo cuddles into Saint’s chest. “It’s cold and I want my bed.”
“You heard my wife. In,” Saint demands, nudging Hendrix back with a gentle hand before pulling the door shut.
Hendrix spins, arms flailing as she stumbles on her heels.
I grip her hips before I can stop myself.
Electricity sparks at my fingertips and shoots through my veins, straight to my fluttering chest.
She exhales a soft breath. “I don’t have to stay at yours.”
My chest tugs. “Your stuff is already at our place, might as well have you there too.”
“Honestly, it’s fine. I’ll just grab everything when we're done in the studio tomorrow.”
I squeeze her hips once before stepping back.
“Don't be daft. You’re staying with us now.” I cup her shoulders, steer her to the passenger seat, and tug the door open.
She looks as if she’s about to argue, but Saint snakes a hand around the seat and drags her down by tugging at her dress.
I close the door behind her, blowing out a slow breath as I round the car and hop behind the wheel.
By the time I pull into our underground garage, Hendrix is out of the count.
Her hair falls over her face, breaths puffing from her parted lips.
Theo jumps out the car, before darting through the garage. Giggles echo through the air as Saint chases after her.
I shake my head with a dry laugh.
Like I said, idiots.
I kill the engine, pocket my keys, and tap Hendrix’s arm.
She doesn’t stir.
I weigh up my options.
Waking her is the most obvious one, but I’m not sure I’m ready to look into her eyes again tonight. I could call Saint back down and make him cart her upstairs. But I’m pretty sure he’ll just call me a twat and slam the door in my face.
I card a hand through my hair, then drag it down my face.
Hooking the keys Saint tossed me around my thumb, I step out of the car, and tug open the passenger door.
My pulse fucking gallops as I scoop Hendrix into my arms.
Her hair tickles my nose, the strawberry and lemon scent unchanged after all these years. I try to ignore how perfectly she fits against me when she nuzzles into my chest but I’m not a fucking idiot. Even I can’t deny the truth right in front of me.
I shift her weight and wrap her arms around my neck for a better hold.
Goosebumps flicker to the life where warm fingers graze my skin. I close my eyes and steel steeling my nerves before carrying her up the stairs and into the flat opposite mine—because Saint just had to pick this one for her.
I bypass the lounge, heading straight for the bedroom.
Her eyelids crack open when I lay her down on the white sheet. “Cole?”
“What’s up, Rixie?” I tug the duvet over her legs, and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
She doesn’t say anything.
I pull back, halting when light fingers curl around my wrist.
Our foreheads touch, her breath skating my cheek.
She ghosts a kiss on the corner of my mouth. “I miss you, Rock Star.”
I don’t breathe.
My fingers tremble when I peel her hand away.
She sinks into the mattress, arm stretching along the sheet as I step back.
It takes longer than it should to reach the door—too long. Because there’s no stopping my carefully curated world tilting on its axis when she breathlessly asks, “Do you ever miss me?”
My eyes sting as I step out of the bedroom, wood creaking closed behind me.
I’ve never not missed you, Rixie Moore.