Free Vanished: A Bad Boy Second Chance Romance by Autumn Avery

stupid am I being? I haven’t seen him in six years. I can’t love him. I never had a chance to love him before now. We never even went out for any amount of time. There’s no way I should love him, especially after what he did to me.
                  My stomach seems to have calmed. I’m safe for the moment, and I get my feet under me and stand. Ducking my head to avoid his gaze, I shuffle to the sink and wash the acid taste of sick out of my mouth, then grab the bottle of mouthwash. I immediately take a shot of it, rinse it around and spit. I take another shot, and swallow this one, feeling the burn as it coats my throat.             
                  “Are you, uh, supposed to drink that?”
                  I give him the stink eye and use another swig to rinse my mouth out. The last thing I need to be doing is breathing puke breath all over Joey.
                  “You should probably change that shirt too,” I hear him say. Looking down at my sleeve, I realized it’s got vomit on it. This is so surreal, like some sort of worst case scenario that’s blown into my life on the storm that is Joey. I exhale all the breath from my lungs and strip out of my shirt, tossing it aside.
                  So what if I only have a bra on? Let him look. Let him see what he’s been missing out on all these years. Just to rub the point home, as I pass him on the way to my room, I give him the sultriest bitch-face sexy look I can muster. I don’t know what I expected, but he just grins at me. Of course he does.
                  I hear the tub turn on as I step into the hall. Washing the puke off his shoes, I guess. I lean forward, resting my head on the wall, trying to calm my mind. This is not how my reunion with Joey was supposed to go. He must be so repulsed by me. He came back expecting to find the same girl he’d left six years ago, and instead he found some drunken mess that probably just ruined his shoes. When he’s done in the bathroom, he’s going to grab his sweatshirt and go, leaving me again, and this time for good.
                  His sweatshirt.
                  I turn and see it lying on the couch and quickly rush over to it and put it on. I need a shirt, and if I’m wearing his sweatshirt he can’t leave. Right? Sounds like a sound plan to me. I need answers, and he can’t go until I get them.
                  I get it zipped up and turn back to the bathroom, but my sock slips on the floor and I stumble, knocking my shin on the coffee table and tumbling to the floor. The pain floods through my leg, and it’s just what I needed to push me over the edge. Like an idiot, I start bawling my brains out.
                  I hear Joey come out of the bathroom, his footsteps coming toward me and stopping just in front of me. I must look ridiculous. Classic drunk girl. Both of his arms slip around my waist and he picks me up like I weigh nothing. The feel of his strong arms against me is almost too much to bear. I could have never imagined the man Joey would grow into.
                  Holding me tightly, effortlessly, he takes me into my bedroom and sets me gently on my bed. I groan and settle in, feeling the soft thick pillow against my cheek. This is just what I needed. The room is still spinning, and I close my eyes, feeling Joey tuck me in with care.
                  Joey.
                  Here. In my bedroom.
                  And I’m a hot drunk mess that he has to take care of. This is not what should be going on in here. I manage to open my eyes for a second and look up at him, dreading his expression. But when I see him, all I see is care and concern. After all this time, as embarrassed as I am, I still feel a strange comfort in his presence. This isn’t me, and he knows that. Somehow I understand that I won’t have to explain this to him