Tenure

13. James

13

James

I’m losing. My. Shit.

After hearing someone call her a bitch and then having the pleasure of listening to her throw up for a solid five minutes, she finally managed to track someone down and grab the address.

I pull up to the house and it’s clearly in mess mode now, the few people outside swaying in the wind or bumping uglies in the bushes or both. I told her to wait for me on the front porch but she isn’t there, and I crack my knuckles for the hundredth time as I head around back.

There’s nobody out here, just a roaring bonfire and Kiernan, sitting on the back steps with her forehead pressed against the deck railing.

She looks so small and sweet, and I want to pick her up and carry her to my car.

“Kiernan,” I say softly.

She looks up at me, her eyes glassy, lips parted while she clearly tries to shake off the spins.

I walk up the steps and squat in front of her, taking her hands in mine and turning them over. They’re covered in dirt. I notice the grass stains on her knees, but it’s her shirt, disheveled, the bottom button popped open, that has me seeing fucking red.

“Who did this to you?” My voice is steady. Calm.

People are going to die today.

“It’s fine.” She waves her hand at me dismissively. “Nothing happened.” But her legs shift, opening slightly, and I look away as my brain fully liquefies and dribbles out my ears.

“Where are your underwear.” Lethal.

“In my bag,” she slurs, waving her hand again. “You got them too wet.”

I glance around but we’re still alone.

“You sure you’re okay?” I ask, trying to grab onto the rage boiling in my gut and shove it down, down, down.

“I just need to lie down,” she mumbles.

I stick her arm around my neck and try to help her stand, but she stumbles awkwardly, tripping on the step and losing her balance.

Fucking hell.

I sigh, sliding one arm under her legs and one around her back, lifting her up and tucking her into my chest as I carry her to my car. She’s light and limp and easy to maneuver as I load her into the passenger side, her head lolling, and do up her seatbelt. I touch both her knees, brushing the dirt off her kneecaps with my thumbs, before I stand up and shut the door, gritting my teeth as I walk back around to the driver’s side.

I stare at the house for a few minutes and seriously consider going inside. Someone would know who she was with.

Enough bad choices for one day, James. Just fucking get her home.

But by the time I get in the driver’s side she’s passed out, and I don’t know her address.

As we speed towards my apartment, I smack my head gently into the headrest of my car over and over.

Just one more bad decision, then.