Lance hesitated a beat at the question. Why in hell was he here, exactly? Because he’d seen that name, Secret Warriors, on the job opportunity, and some perverse impulse had driven him to apply, that’s why. Rather than stay the hell away, which was exactly what he should have done.
Bloody hell. Well, now he was here. With a seething, pissed-drunk ex-wife on his hands at ten o’clock in the bloody morning.
“Apparently to make sure you manage to make it home without killing yourself,” he bit back sharply. “Because you’re sure as hell not any good to be anywhere else right now. Hopefully they don’t need you around here, because I’m calling you a cab.”
her hand was still throbbing and the room was spinning a little, but she managed not to break eye contact with him somehow as she waited for an answer, half expecting him to tell her to mind her own business, or yell at her, or something. something adding to this fight.
she blinked at his answer, surprised by his words. just to make sure she got home ?? what, did he think she needed a baby sitter ??
❛ i’m TWENTY THREE, lance. i’m not a kid anymore.❜ she shot back, standing, wobbly, and the idea of laying down in her nice comfy bed did seem appealing in the back of her mind. ❛ i can call an uber myself. ❜
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