Page 26 of Pucked Together

"Izzy, come with me." I extend a hand out to her, and she swats it away. "I'm not your enemy. I'm trying to help you."

"You can help me when I ask for it, Ryker." She crosses her arms over her chest and then quickly covers her mouth. Her face changes in an instant.

"What is it?" I put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not feeling too good." She looks like she's about to hurl.

Without a second thought, I quickly bent to pick her up. Lifting her into my arms, I catch a light scent of sweet peaches as her long black hair drapes over my shoulder.

"Hold on," I whisper to her as I get to the sticky bathrooms, pushing past the line waiting outside.

I shove the door with my shoulder, and it opens to a group of college students gossiping and putting on lip gloss in front of the mirrors.

"Out," I roar at them, and they yelp, looking at me horrified.

"Oh my god! Is that Ryker Balinger?" One whispers to another as they gather their things.

This is precisely why I don't go out.

"Now." I give them a glare that has them moving faster.

"The rumors are right. He is an ass." They giggle as they brush past us.

I set Izzy on her feet, and she runs to the first empty stall.

I can't help but wince at the sight of her kneeling on the filthy floor as she heaves the contents of the evening into the toilet bowl.

I instinctively reach for her soft hair and pull it back from her face. A buried memory surfaces of a time long ago when I would hold my mother's hair just like this. She drank herself to near death, which is why I don't so much as even look at alcohol.

Someone pushes the door open as Izzy continues to retch.

"Get out!" I yell back without looking.

"Ryker? What's wrong with her?"

It's Fergie.

"She's gotta go home," I tell him.

He looks sheepish and drops his phone on the floor, swaying as he tries to bend and pick it up. "I'll call us a cab."

"Absolutely not. I'll take you both home."

"Ryker, it's ok. I got this," Fergie protests.

Izzy finally sits back on her heels.

"Better?" I ask her, still holding her hair loosely in my hand.

She nods and then heaves into the toilet again.

"Stupid, Trevor," she whispers to herself, hovering over the bowl.

I see now. She's drinking to get over that dumbass.

"Izzy, please, let me take you and Fergie home. You can't be out here like this."

"Are you offering to take care of me because I'm drunk and pathetic, Balinger? You gonna take advantage of me like all you players do?"