Page 155 of Ly to Me

But two seconds of waiting was long enough. My chains busted through his front window, and he shouted as he finally found the right gear and ripped it from the driveway.

Hayes spat on the ground and came to my side as Grant ran down the driveway, watching the show continue. “Never told me what he did.”

His jaw was tight, and I knew my comment about Jamie coming for what they cared about had gotten to him. Grant may have needed a motive, but Hayes? He was down for anything. I settled the chains back over my shoulder. “Would it have mattered?” I asked, arching my brow.

“No.” The crowbar settled back over his shoulder. “Anyone else?”

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

46

Lyra

The Delivery

Image of a note, which reads: Ly, Sorry I was out so late hunting. I missed you. Do you mind taking the box on the desk up to Nadine? Tell her it will come from you from now on. The bag beside it is for your friend so she doesn’t feel the need to steal from us. I’ll be home at five. Be ready for me to fuck the rest of that sense from your head. Love, Car

The note was left on his nightstand, beside a full glass of water and a bottle of Aspirin.

My lifesaver.

I threw on a dress and tied up my hair in a high-pony, hoping that would keep me from sweating for at least some of the day since summer was creeping up on us. I glanced back at our bed before leaving our room, trying to remember if I’d been the one to find it in my drunken state or if perhaps Carver had come home and carried me there.

It was probably the latter.

Which meant Sophia would be in—

Notthe guest room.

Soft snores greeted me as I stepped into the living room, only to find my best friend on the couch with a box of pizza right on the floor beside her, and no other than Grant curled up behind her.

I tapped her leg with my toes, and when her eyes batted open, I couldn’t help the smirk on my face. “Gettin’ cozy?”

“Huh?”

I jutted my chin. Her eyes widened as she turned her head just enough to take in Grant.

“Oh, fuck off, Lyra,” she whispered, trying to work his hand from her without waking him. “What’s in there?”

“Car wants me to go into town.” She finally finished unsticking herself from Grant’s hold, grimacing occasionally as if he were a bug. “Take it to a friend. You stickin’ around or doesthat”—I pointed to the tattooed playboy behind her—”make you feel like you gotta go home?”

She stood and yanked the box from under my arm. “Maybe I’ll move here.”

As nice as that sounded, it would be impossible for her circumstances to ever allow it.

I snorted. “You’re still drunk.”

“Yeah, probably.” She shrugged. “You driving? Can we get coffee?”

My eyes slid to the window. “Have to take Carver’s truck.”

“Whatever works. I don’t care.” She fluffed her hair and slid on her shoes. I opened the door, and right as Grant groaned from the couch, Sophia pushed me through.

I shook my head as she darted to my husband’s truck. “Can’t you walk faster?” she hissed from behind the passenger side door.

“You woke up still wearing your clothesandyou came from your friend’s house, not his. I’m sure whatever you’re trying to do doesn’t really count as a walk of shame.”

Her gaze shot to the front door. “Doesn’t mean I want him talking to me more.”