Run

Chapter Five

I hope you're enjoying McKenna and Trevor's story so far! We'll get to more smexytimes soon, but first, McKenna has to remember why she doesn't drink whiskey :)

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If I could just open my eyes, I was certain I'd see William Wallace standing on the ridge, surrounded by warriors in kilts, beating on drums.

Excruciating. An apt description of trying to pry my lids apart. It amplified the pounding in my head. I gave up, snuggling deeper into the pillow under my cheek.

The pillow didn't smell like mine. The detergent was different, mixed with the scent of Old Spice. It beckoned me toward sleep, that deep, deep dark place where nothing bad happened and I was cradled in warmth.

I slipped toward it, only to be pulled out when the bed shifted and dipped next to my hip. A warm hand settled on my shoulder. "McKenna."

I liked that voice. I just wanted it to shut up.

"C'mon. Up. Unless you don't want a ride back to your car."

Car? Car. A thing with wheels and a combustion engine. I managed to crack open an eye and peered out at the room. What little I could see was unfamiliar - shadowed, the wall across from the bed blank and and boringly white, like the sheets on the bed. "Mmph?"

The voice chuckled, and my abused head cleared a bit. Whiskey. Burgers. Shaggy hair and broad shoulders, a low voice soothing and calling me "darlin'". Gathering what little strength I had, I pushed at the bed. The hand slid from my shoulder and helped me onto my side, where I stopped and waited for my stomach to catch up. "Fuck," I whispered. "Water?"

"Might be best if you were upright for that."

Nope. I was going to lie right here for eternity. Or until my head stopped throbbing. But my tongue felt like it was three times as big as it should be. "'Kay." I laid my hand flat on the bed and pushed up, squeezing my eyes shut.

The helping hand was there again, splayed against my back, urging me into a sitting position. My stomach stayed where it was supposed to, but my head threatened to fall off. I groped about blindly, hoping I'd come into contact with a glass, a bottle, something full of water. I'd drink it, lie back down, and never touch liquor again.

"Hey." His voice was soft, his touch softer as he slid his fingers under my chin and tipped it up. "Open your eyes." I whimpered and struggled to comply. He was frowning. Some how the sexy mouth creases were still sexy even with his lips pulling in the opposite direction. That shouldn't have been possible. It also wasn't fair. "You sure you only had three last night?"

I shrugged, then winced. I'd lost track of time, drowning in my thoughts, so it was entirely possible I'd had more than the three or four doubles I could remember. I took the glass of water he handed me, along with the pills, and swallowed. "I don't know," I said after I'd drained the glass.

His frown deepened. "You make a habit of that?"

"Habit of what? Drinking too much? Not lately. The hangovers are a bitch."

He stared at me a moment before he took the glass and stood, and I watched him walk to the bathroom. Nice ass. Went well with the shoulders. He returned a minute later with a full glass and handed it to me, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You said you were looking for me."

I swallowed water, begging it to do its job and take some of the sickness away. "I did?" He just sat there and waited. I held out the empty glass in an attempt to coax more water from him. When he took it and placed it on the bedside table, I sighed. "You weren't there and the alcohol was. The rest you know."