Henry’s jaw was clenched so tightly it felt like his teeth might crack. The wheel creaked under his grip as he navigated through the night streets, every turn making his irritation simmer higher. He was furious at Bunny and Charles for letting it go this far — or rather, for encouraging it. Of all nights, they had to push drinks onto her when he wasn’t there to keep watch. She was sprawled in the backseat, swaying helplessly with each curve of the road. If he hadn’t buckled her in himself, she’d be sliding around the leather like a ragdoll.

Still, his anger wasn’t reserved for Bunny and Charles alone. He was just as exasperated with her. She knew her limits. He’d seen her handle her drink before. She wasn’t naïve. And yet — this.

When he finally pulled into his building’s lot, Henry killed the engine with a sharp twist of his wrist. “You’re staying at mine,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. Sliding out of the driver’s seat, he circled around, opened the back door, and unbuckled her just in time to keep her from slumping face-first onto the upholstery.

“Christ…” he breathed, catching her against his chest. She was all dead weight, boneless and pliant. Balancing her with one arm, he fumbled with the keys, jaw clenched, teeth grinding in frustration. “Don’t you dare pass out on me yet,” he hissed under his breath, like he could bully her into coherence.

Finally, the lock gave way. He kicked the door shut behind them and crossed the room with brisk strides, depositing her onto the bed. He crouched down, tugging at her shoes until they slid off, dropping them to the floor with a dull thud. The belt came next, loosened and slipped free with practiced hands. The rest, he decided, could stay. He wasn’t about to strip her down further. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up feeling compromised under his roof. She deserved at least that much dignity.

“Rest now. I’ll be around,” Henry murmured, his voice softer than it had been all night. He wasn’t even sure if she could hear him, if the words reached beyond the haze she’d drowned herself in. But he said them anyway, because the silence between them was unbearable. Because maybe some part of her would register that she wasn’t alone — that someone was still there, keeping watch.