Second Dive (Kings of the Water #3) - Jasmin Miller Page 0,70
whole place calms down, and the music switches to background music again.
When Chloe leaves for the bathroom, Cody studies me quietly.
I can’t help but chuckle at his obvious perusal. “What?”
He takes a sip of his drink and smiles. “Sorry, I guess all bets are off when it comes to this girl. She’s been through a lot, and the last thing any of us want to see is her getting hurt even more.”
I hold up my hands. “I couldn’t agree more. She told me about what she went through and about her dad. I can’t even imagine what she’s gone through. And how she’s still this happy person. It’s . . . amazing.”
“That’s Chloe for you.”
“Very true.”
“But I’m glad she told you. That’s a good thing.”
I purse my lips and nod. It’s situations like these where that anger, and a bit of jealousy float to the surface over everyone knowing what was going on with her, but me. Everyone important in her life, but me.
Chloe chooses that moment to return, as usual, with a smile on her face, followed by a yawn she barely manages to hide behind her hand.
“Looks like someone’s ready for bed.” Cody smiles at her.
At that, she yawns again and grins. “I sure feel like it.”
“Let’s get you home, then.” I get up from the barstool and finish my water. I’m used to not drinking because of my usually very strict swimming routine, so it’s not a biggie, but I also wanted to support Chloe and allow her to have a fun night out.
We say goodbye to Cody and Francesco, who comes over when he sees we’re getting ready to leave, and then we’re off into the cool night. We took an Uber earlier because Chloe said parking will be a pain tonight—which I’m guessing is due to Lady Rosa—so I called for another ride when Chloe came back from the bathroom, and thankfully, one was close by.
We slip into the back of the waiting car and have a quiet ride back home with our fingers intertwined and Chloe’s head on my shoulder.
By the time we arrive, Chloe’s passed out. She doesn’t wake up when I thank the driver, or when I not-so-gently get her out of the car. This girl has always been a deep sleeper. I walk up her driveway and to her front door but realize that I obviously don’t have her keys, and I don’t want to wake her up either.
I turn around to take her to my place when I remember her medicine. Does she still need to take it tonight? Can something happen if she doesn’t take it on time?
Fuck. I thought I knew so much after googling the shit out of heart transplant surgery, patients, and life after heart transplant surgery.
“Chloe.” I talk quietly, not wanting to freak her out. Of course, nothing. “Chloe.” A little louder. “Little bird.” Her breath hitches. “Little bird.” Louder again, and this time, I nudge her nose with mine too.
She stirs in my arms and slowly, very slowly, opens her eyes to give me a lazy smile. “Hey.”
“Hey, gorgeous. Where are your keys?”
“Purse.”
“Can you stand?”
“Mmm.”
I put her down but hold on to her by the arms while half of her arm disappears in her purse.
After a minute, she pulls it back out with her keys dangling between two fingers. “Jackpot.”
“Well, there had to be something good in that monstrous bag.” I poke her side and she leans away from me.
“Stop it. You know I’m ticklish.”
“Oh, I know.” I pull her body flush to mine and stare into her eyes. Her porch light is dim, but bright enough to see her dilated pupils. “There isn’t a thing I’ve forgotten about you, Chloe.”
She inhales sharply before blinking furiously. “I know what you mean.”
I swallow, the late evening air cold enough to bite at the tip of my ears. “Let’s get you inside. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“Okay.”
I watch her fumble with the door lock long enough to want to take over, but then she gets it.
When she turns around in the open doorway, I look at her. Deeply. The slightly droopy eyelids. The small hint of dark circles under her eyes.
Fuck. I read about how important sleep is for someone like her, and here I’ve been keeping her up at night when we’re together. And so often, when we’re not, we’re texting or on the phone until late.
She’s rubbing at her eyebrow. “Are you . . . are you coming inside?”