There’s absolutely no way Evan caused all this destruction because he’s not a huge drinker, and I also happen to know he’s not a big fan of pizza. My money is resting right now on Dilana owning the empty bottle of bourbon and Cap calling for the pizza.
With a grin, I stealthily make my way down the length of the bus, wondering if Evan partied hard with his band last night. Chicago was a big show and there’d totally be reason to celebrate.
As I pass by the bathroom, I take a peek inside and my nose automatically wrinkles as I see dried vomit all over the toilet seat along with a crumpled towel on the floor. I’m not sure who that belongs to, but whoever is the culprit is going to have their butt over here this morning to clean that up. That’s my bathroom—along with Evan’s—and while I don’t mind them partying here in my absence, I’m not going to clean their mess up either.
A little peeved, I step past the bathroom and to the door of the bedroom. It’s shut almost all the way except for a small gap, and my hand goes to it to push it open.
My eyes land on the bed, expecting my heart to swell when I get a good look at Evan as he sleeps. I love watching him like that as his face looks so young and boyish… almost vulnerable.
Instead, I can barely process what I’m taking in, except that my heart isn’t swelling with abandon. Instead, it feels like someone stuck a knife right in the center and then sliced upward, ripping through the base of my throat so I can’t even utter a noise.
Evan is lying on his back, arms spread wide. He’s naked from the waist up and the top button of his jeans is undone. He’s sleeping hard, his mouth open and slack.
And curled into him—hell, partly on top of him—is a woman.
My chest constricts, squeezes so painfully that a tiny hiss of air comes out of my mouth. She’s sound asleep too.
Beautiful, long brown hair and a miniscule dress that’s showing me the fact she’s got a red thong underneath it. Her head is resting on Evan’s chest, her arm across his belly.
In my mind, I know they’re drunk and passed out.
In my heart, I can’t help but see the intimacy of the way she’s laying on him. So possessive and intimately acquainted with that beautiful chest that I’ve often laid my own head upon.
A crushing weight presses down upon me, and I actually feel disoriented from the slicing pain still evident in my chest. I stumble backward, reaching a hand out to catch myself on the edge of the door, but it slams backward into the wall and I almost fall to the ground. Luckily, my butt hits the door when it becomes stable against the wall, but the noise is enough to rouse Evan.
He jerks sort of slowly, and I almost vomit when I see his arm curl around the woman to squeeze her in closer. An involuntary cry of pain escapes my lips. I watch in horror as Evan’s head rises from the pillow and he looks straight at me with bleary eyes.
“Emma?” he says, his voice sounded clogged and scratchy.
His eyes look at me in confusion, and then his brows knit inward as his head slowly turns to the woman beside him, who hasn’t moved yet. He stares at her a long moment, and then he actually jerks spastically as it dawns on him that I’ve caught him with another woman.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he growls as he pushes the woman unceremoniously off his chest and scrambles backward off the bed. I watch as he reels, almost falls over, and catches himself on the wall, his other hand going to his head where his eyes squeeze shut in pain. He gets his bearings and opens his eyes slowly to look at me with shame.
“You unbelievable asshole,” I hiss at him. My eyes cut to the bed, and I see the woman hasn’t even stirred. She may be dead for all I know, but that’s not my problem.
“Emma,” Evan groans as he stumbles my way, and it’s clear he’s probably still drunk. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Yeah?” I snarl at him as he tries to make his way around the bed toward me, catches a shin on the edge, and then pitches forward to the carpet. “Because to me, it looks like you replaced me pretty easily in your bed.”
“No,” he yells at me, and then groans again as he lurches upward, placing his palm on the mattress for leverage. “I have no clue who that is. I have no clue what—”
“Save it, you fucking asshole,” I screech at the top of my lungs, a very anti-Emma reaction, but I’m so beyond hurt and pissed at this moment, I’ve got no control over my actions.
The woman on the bed moans and mutters, “Shut the fuck up. My head hurts.”
She rolls over and passes out again.
And then, the tears make their appearance. My nose stings, gets wet, and the tears well up. I spin away from Evan before he can see them, and before they can fall. Stumbling past the door, I careen off the jamb, righting myself as soon as I hit the hallway.