Free Perfectly Protected (Addicted To You, Book Three) by Lucy Covington Page A

the gym or do anything but be together.
    Of course, I didn’t actually kiss her. Instead, I turned around and walked away.

    ***
    The first place I went was the shelter where Gilbert had been staying. When I got there, an older African American man with a salt-and-pepper mustache met me at the door. “Help you?” he asked jovially.
    “Yeah. I’m looking for Gilbert.”
    He had on glasses with thick black frames, and he took them off, looked at me.
    “You a friend of his?”
    “I’m his best friend.”
    “I’m James Rivera, I’m the manager of this shelter.” He reached his hand out and I shook it.
    “Is he around?”
    James Rivera licked his lips and looked down. “He’s not here, I’m afraid. We had to turn him away last night. He tried to get in, but he was clearly high on something.”
    “So you turned him away?” I asked, shocked. “Isn’t that when he needs to be here the most?”
    “Actually, no. We have a policy against people coming to the shelter who are intoxicated. They become a disturbance to the other residents.”
    I grit my teeth. “That’s a great policy. So where did he go? Did anybody even try and help him?”
    “I don’t know where he went. I’m really sorry. Unfortunately, this is a common occurrence in this population, and so -- ”
    “I don’t care about the population. Gil is my friend, he’s like a brother to me.
    And for all I know, he’s dead somewhere right now because when he needed someone last night…” I trailed off, realizing that I wasn’t actually angry with the people at the shelter.
    I was really only angry with myself.
    “I am truly sorry. I know Gilbert well, and he’s a sweet man. He just needs more help than we’re capable of giving.”
    “I know that.” I turned and walked off, the tears momentarily blinding me as I got away from that desperate, grim place as fast as I could. Wiping my tears away, I decided to spend less time whining and crying, and more time trying to figure out where Gil might be.
    A few blocks away, I found a bar that was open and popped my head inside, asking if they’d seen him. Nobody had—they didn’t even know who I was talking about.
    After that, I headed to Gilbert’s ex-girlfriend’s apartment. It was across town, but I figured it was worth a shot. They had been on-again off-again for the last few years and she was a junkie like him.
    I buzzed and she answered. “Who is it?”
    “Is Gil in there?” I yelled into the intercom.
    “Gil? Who’s asking?”
    “It’s Justin.”
    “Fuck off, JB. I ain’t seen that asshole in like six fucking months. And if you see him, tell that bitch he owes me fifty dollars.”
    I decided she was probably telling the truth. And it didn’t seem like she’d have any leads on where he’d gone.
    From there, I wandered over to McDonald’s, where I ordered a small coffee and an egg sandwich. Sitting in a booth, I ate, wishing Lindsay was still there with me. I imagined us talking about the best places to look for Gilbert. I pictured her being concerned, but assuring me that we’d find him and he’d be okay.
    I knew those daydreams were silly. Lindsay wouldn’t have any interest in helping me track down my drug addict friend. She’d wonder if I was into drugs myself.
    And she’d be right to question me. The truth was, I had plenty of problems and plenty of history, and she didn’t deserve to be dragged into any of it—not even in my daydreams.
    But it was hard to get her out of my head. My mind went back to last night, in the ocean. The look in her eyes, the way her skin felt against mine. And then when we were in bed, her body pressing firmly into me, my arms encircling her, protecting her from anything and everything.
    I was done with my sandwich and drinking the last of my coffee when it hit me that there was still another place I might find Gilbert. I hurried out of McDonalds and found the nearest T station, took it over to Beacon Street and walked down to the park near