Page 127 of Timelessly Ours
She blinks. “The…school called. You know they still have my number from when Angel attended.”
“It doesn’t add up.”
“Can you at least let me in the house so I’m not freezing my ass off out here? I did just bring your daughter home, you’re welcome.”
I growl and step back, letting her in. “Don’t get comfortable.”
I follow her into my living room and try to remember if Nicole mentioned anything about her plans today. Did something happen at her therapy session?
I whip out my phone to call her when the stairs begin to creak with footsteps.
Claire sees her before I do and throws her hands up in the air. “Oh, great. She looks like hell, too. Nice, Royce. Really, you sure know how to pick 'em.”
“Shut up, Claire.”
But when I see her, my chest tightens with dreadful concern. She really does look like hell. She’s in black jeans and a black crop top. There’s a shawl around her shoulders as she descends the stairs, watching us with utter confusion. Her hair is down and untamed, like she’d been sleeping. Her eyes wary and the strong scent of ale and something unpleasant reeks from her clothes.
“Where’s… Rory?” she croaks.
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Claire laughs uncomically at my question and turns, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose—Royce’s signature move. “Oh my God,” she scoffs.
“What time is it?” I ask in a whisper.
Royce is at my side the minute I reach the bottom step and stumble. He catches me and leads me to the living room at a slow and study pace, holding my forearms. “You can go now, Claire,” he mutters sharply.
“Why don’t you ask her where she was today,” she drills, loudly.
My hand goes to my head the moment he sits me down on the sofa. “Can you please use your inside voice?” I ask, shutting my eyes so I don’t see her roll her eyes at me.
“I know where she was today,” Royce grits with an edge to his voice. “She told me.”
“So, you’re not going to ask her, then?”
My head is spinning. Why is my head spinning? I feel so tired. I never get like this after I drink. Never.
No.
I’m not drunk. This is something else. Stomach bug?
Holy shit, was I drugged?
Royce smooths a hand over my head. “Hey, don’t worry about Rory, okay? It happens. I’m guilty of forgetting to pick up Angel once or twice from school when she was little.”
“Four times, but who’s counting?” Claire mutters.
“What’s going on? Did something happen at your… doctor’s?”
My bottom lip trembles and I hear little footsteps enter the room. “Is Nicky alright?”
“Rory, go upstairs.” His voice turns sharp, urgent.
I recognize it. He’s growing impatient.
He kneels back in front of me. “Nicole, talk to me.” But his tone isn’t warm. It’s not soft. It’s demanding.
“She’s obviously piss drunk, look at her,” Claire says in the background.