Shiner Bock has my credit cards, which would be okay because I can get back home without my Visa or American Express—I’ve survived traveling without money before and can easily do so again. But when he cleaned out my room, he took everything in the nightstand drawer, including my ID.
I’ve had my entire makeup bag confiscated by TSA. There’s no way in hell I’m getting through the gate tomorrow without my license.
Or in my own rental car.
Or on a Greyhound bus.
Fuck.
Clenching my teeth together, I amend my statement with Officer Townsend. “I might be going back to L.A. in the morning.”
As Townsend escorts us out of the banquet hall so we can book a different room for the night, Heidi shoots me a pitiful look. “I’m so sorry, Ky,” she whispers. Since most of my initial irritation with her has evaporated, I respond by lifting the corner of my mouth and shrugging.
“Shit happens, babe. I’m just glad he wasn’t dangerous.”
My words must do her in because by the time we reach the entrance to the empty lobby, tears are streaming down her face, leaving dark, jagged eyeliner smudges to ruin the rest of her makeup. Miserably, I lower my brown eyes to the polished black floor, just as I hear Wyatt call out to me from the concierge desk.
“Kylie?” The panic resonating in his deep voice causes my throat to swell. He reaches me in a few long sprints, and yanks me to his muscular chest. Cupping the sides of my face between his large hands, he bends so that our eyes are level. “What the f**k?”
I’m startled at how wild his blue eyes look, and I immediately blurt out, “I’m alright.” I dart my gaze to Officer Townsend and whisper a thank you. He gives me a nod of his head, before taking off to talk to the manager on duty. Heidi slinks off toward the front counter, looking behind her once before dropping her eyes to the floor.
Pushing my shoulders back, I turn my gaze to Wyatt, and he straightens, dropping his hands to my waist to encircle it. “I’m fine,” I say once more.
He loosens his hold on my waist, only to move his fingers to the small of my back. It’s as if he’s unable to let go, and it’s comforting. He guides me toward the couches in the lounge area, and I stay as close to him as our bodies will allow because, honestly, I don’t want him to let go of me, either.
Not just yet.
“Don’t put me through that shit again.” His voice is hoarse. Before I’m able to respond, he continues. “I text you, nothing. I go to your room, and there’s a f**king cop there and still nothing from you. And then these f**kers at concierge refuse to tell me what’s going on.”
“I was filling out a police report.” We sit on the couch at the same time, and I accept his hand when he reaches for mine, linking our fingers. I go through everything that’s happened before and after we met up tonight, leaving out the part about the disastrous double date with Shiner Bock and James. “I honestly didn’t even think to check my phone.”
He brings our hands to his mouth, running his lips across the backs of my knuckles. My chest expands, muscles relax, and I squeeze his fingers. “Don’t say sorry, Ky. Just don’t f**king . . . scare me again.”
Wyatt McCrae. Scared. Something about him admitting that to me on the night that we’ve agreed would be our last sends multiple emotions pummeling through me, beating against my heart like a strong fist.
I pull out of his grip and scrub the heels of my palms over my eyes. “God, why do you have to say things like that now?” I drag my hands back, slicking tears through my hair as I push it away from my forehead.
A look of regret, which is quickly replaced by tenderness, flashes in his eyes. “Because it’s true.” He tugs me back to him, cursing. “And don’t do that. I can take tears from anyone but you, Ky.”
“I swear I’m fine.” I feel a little ridiculous. Okay, incredibly ridiculous. I’ve never actually cried in front of him, because usually by the time the letdown kicks in and the waterworks begin, he’s not around. “I just need to go to bed.”
I stand to join Heidi at the front desk, but he closes his hand around mine. “You’re not sleeping anywhere but with me tonight.”
As much as I want that to happen, as much as I want him, I can’t in good conscience leave my best friend alone. “I should stay with Heidi.”
Wyatt’s blue eyes scan the lobby until they zero in on Heidi. She’s kicked off her stilettos and is leaned against the front desk, with her eyebrows pulled together as she signs a receipt. She was lucky. When Finn ditched her in favor of raiding our room, she had her license and credit cards on her.
“I’m going to text Cal.” He reaches into the pocket of his jeans for his phone. I stop him, grabbing his hand before he can send the other guitarist a message.
“They hate each other.”
The last thing I want is to hear Heidi and Cal bicker, and they’ve been doing it for years, ever since he hurt her feelings by turning her down after a show. There’s a vicious migraine starting to make my eyes burn, and I doubt listening to them angrily spit out “douchebags”, “hoebots”, and “fucksticks” every few minutes will make it feel any better.
“And?” Wyatt’s smile is cocky and infuriatingly handsome. He shrugs out of my grip. He doesn’t seem to care that I’m glaring flame-tipped darts into his forehead as he sends Cal a message. “At least she won’t be alone.”
“Your tenacity is unnerving.”
“I want to do so many f**king things to you when you talk like that.”