Page 185 of The Storm

Callum jogs in a little before noon and drops his gym bag in the corner of the room, throwing himself onto the couch face first.

I raise my brows as I get up from the kitchen table where I parked myself earlier with my laptop.

I stand over him for a bit before I poke him in the shoulder.

“You okay there, big guy?”

He groans in reply before he turns over and squints at me.

“I don’t have a will,” he says.

I stare at him. “I’m sorry?”

“And I make a lot of money, Indy. Like, a shit-ton of money. I thought it would be hilarious to get, like, a dog, and leave all my money to him, you know? But then that would make me kind of an asshole. People could do a lot of good with that kind of money, right? But then, like, which charity would I even pick? There’s a lot of crap going on out there in the world.”

“Can we rewind a bit to the part where you’re apparently at death’s door?” I ask.

“Somebody uploaded some stuff to social media from the party,” he says. “Coach saw it. He was not happy.”

“I thought it was good to upload things about the event? Draw more people’s attention to the cause? Right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Definitely. It was the Sunday afterparty he wasn’t that happy with.”

I would laugh, but he looks really pathetic. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he says defensively. He pauses for a bit. “I don’t think. I have the slightest of hangovers.” He squints. “Possibly a touch of amnesia.”

“I feel a lot less sorry for you all of a sudden.”

He grabs my arm, a pleading look on his face. “There was so much running, Indy. So much running. You don’t understand. I have flashbacks.”

I bite back a smile. “Do you want something to eat?”

“I’ll puke,” he says grimly.

“A smoothie?”

He considers it for a bit. “If it’s not green?” he says hopefully.

“You did raise a lot of money for charity, so I guess you deserve a little reward for that.”

“I did,” he says with almost eager nod. “I really did.”

“Give me twenty. I’ll go buy you one.”

He lets go of me and closes his eyes, throwing his arm over them. “I have a blender somewhere.”

“Isn’t that nice for you,” I say off-handedly before I grab my things and head out. I get the smoothie for him, then circle back and pick up a couple of sandwiches just in case he changes his mind about puking.

When I get back to Callum’s place, I run into Bridget and Dia just outside.

“Hey,” I say. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Damage control,” Bridget says grimly. “Marcus is on his way.”

“I just like to watch people yell at other people,” Dia says cheerfully before she reaches out, pinches my cheek between her thumb and forefinger, and smacks a kiss on my nose. I try to bat her away with the smoothie cup, but it’s not really working.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook either,” Bridget says.