My Brother's Girl

36| The Right Four Letter Word

I groaned as I rolled over in my bed. I tried to open my eyes but it felt like they were glued shut. I stretched and that's when I realized I was only wearing my bra and panties.  

"What the...hell?"

I shot up in the bed as the memories from the night before came screaming back to me. I remembered running out of alcohol and deciding to go to Down the Rabbit Hole. I ran into Grant. We talked and—and I got hammered. Christ. I told him all about Wyatt and I. I frowned and rubbed at the headache starting to form. What the hell happened after that? 

"Coffee?" 

My eyes snapped open when I heard Wyatt's voice. He came into my room carrying two cups of coffee. He held one out to me and I took it. That's when I noticed he was wearing only his boxers. Sure we didn't...

"Um, Wyatt, what happened?" 

He sat on the lounge chair across from my bed and put the mug to his lips. His eyes watched me over the rim as he took a drink. "You don't remember?" 

"I remember being at the bar and talking to Grant." 

"You called me." 

What the hell? "I called you..." I tried to search through my memories. I couldn't rememer anything about a phone call. Oh, God. What the hell did I say to him? "Is—is that why you're here?" I thought about my attire again. "Did we have sex last night?" 

I really, really hoped we didn't have sex. I mean, it was Wyatt and I'm sure it would have happened again sooner or later—whether we were together or not. But if I was hammered to the point of not remembering...

"We didn't have sex," he said quietly. 

I looked up at him and saw the truth of it in his eyes. I knew he wouldn't lie about something like that. Not to me. I just wish I rememered everything that happened. Wyatt seemed to know where my thoughts were going. 

"You called me to tell me you were over me and drunk." He laughed a little. "You also told me that you were having a great time with a blonde guy and he was taking you home." 

Oh. My. God. "Wyatt, I'm sorry. It wasn't what you think. The blonde I mentioned, it was—"

"Grant," he finished for me. "I know. I was already on my way to you when you called me.  I didn't know where you went. I checked the bar first. Roger told me you left with a man." Wyatt closed hie eyes tight. "I was going out of my fucking mind. I was so worried some stranger had you. That you might get hurt." 

My chest ached at his words. I didn't remember making the call, but I knew what he was saying was the truth. Guilt overrode the hangover I was feeling. I could only imagine how worried he was about me. "I'm so sorry, Wyatt. Drunk or not, I shouldn't have worried you like that."

I pointed to the black dress I wore last night, which was now in the middle of my floor. "Did I take that off?"

He eyed the black dress and grinned. "You asked for my help. You seemed uncomfortable. I was going to sleep on the couch, but—"

"But I asked you to sleep in the bed with me," I finished for him. 

"You remember that?" 

"No. Sober or not, I always want you in my bed," I whispered. 

When his eyes met mine, everything that's happened over the past few days—everything I've been feeling—came rushing to the surface. It felt like my emotions were a semi that was rolling down a hill and the breaks weren't working. I felt everything. Love. Desire. Betrayal. Longing. One of the things I've been thinking about over and over again, was that I didn't want to live without him. There was always going to be a part of me that was going to seek him out. Maybe I should move out of New York. Maybe I should just leave and—