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

tomorrow.
                  My bed is so soft, and my head sinks into the pillow. My breathing slows. My stomach is finally calming down. I pull the blankets up to my chin, and the last thing I see before I close my eyes, is Joey’s face, smiling down at me.
                  He’s so handsome, I think as I slip into sleep.

Chapter 5
     
                  I wake to the smell of…bacon?
                  I sit up quickly and instantly slump back down, clutching my head as a wave of nausea sweeps over me like the angel of death. Talk about the mother of all hang overs. Like I said, I rarely ever drink, and as a result, I’m a total lightweight. But I am able to swing my legs out of bed, the events of last night replaying through my mind like a film with half the scenes cut out, and the rest grainy and distorted.
                  The floor feels cold against my bare feet, but the rest of my body is practically overheating.
                  I realize I’m still wearing Joey’s sweatshirt. He must have left without it. What a night for him. I can’t even imagine it from his perspective. He sees me, gets into a fight, then comes over and has to deal with me throwing up all over him, then stealing his clothes.
                  But it serves him right! I think, anger swarming over me again as the sleep fades from my mind. He was gone for six years! What’s he think he’s going to get? A nice happy warm welcome when he shows up at my door? He’s just going to rush up to my porch like something out of a Nicholas Sparks novel and I’m just going to welcome him in with open arms, kiss him passionately, and let him take me on the couch?
                  Fat chance.
                  Just thinking about last night is getting my blood pressure up. The anger at Joey mixing with my total embarrassment has my anxiety in high gear and I haven’t even left my bedroom.
                  I’m getting even more riled up as I step into the hall, lazily scratching my scalp with a fingertip. The floor is freezing, and I step quickly into the living room, seeking shelter on the rug. My head is throbbing, and I slump down onto the couch and cradle it in both hands.
                  This is his fault!
                  If he had just stayed away, none of this would have happened. I would have gone to work, made a few bucks, and come home. But no. Joey has to show up, causing me to freak out, causing me to drink, then leave again, causing me to drink more , and ending up with a disaster night fit for the history books.
                  I actually probably would have still gotten drunk, but I wouldn’t have thrown up all over him. That’s what really has me feeling bad about last night. Anger I’m pretty good at getting over—but embarrassment?
                  “Morning!”
                  I jump out of skin and leap to my feet, spinning quickly around at the sound of the voice.
                  Joey is standing in my kitchen, making breakfast. I guess that explains the smell of bacon.
                  “Jesus Christ!” I yelp, clapping a hand over my mouth. My neighbors are pains in the ass, and I’m probably already going to get an angry letter from them about last night’s noise. “Joey! What are you doing?!”
                  “Making breakfast for you,” he says, as though I asked him what the weather forecast was. He turns back to the stove, and I stand there for a minute, frozen at the absurdity of the situation.
                  “Did you…sleep here?” I ask hesitantly.
                  “I crashed on the couch,” he says calmly. “You need a new one. That one’s terrible.”
                  “You slept here?! Why?!” Slowly I pace forward. I see he’s made scrambled eggs as well. I