Fuck. Her hip took the brunt of it. She vaguely thought that was going to leave a mark as she went down hard, knees scraping against the floor as her palms met the ground.

She actually considered just staying down there. Her hip throbbed, and her knees felt raw and less a few layers of skin. Shiny brown shoes hastily appeared in front of her.

“Jesus, Cherisse.” Dale stooped down, eyes filled with worry. He looked over her head a split second—Cherisse could still hear the scuffle behind her—then looked back to her and asked, “You alright?”

“Just please.” She didn’t know if he could hear her. She didn’t even want to lift her head right now to see the faces looking back at her. She was too embarrassed. “Take me home.”

“Of course.” He helped her to her feet.

She didn’t look back at Keiran or Sean, ignored the guests around her. She just wanted to get home and sleep forever.

#

“YOU SURE YOU’RE GOOD by yourself?” Dale asked for the millionth time.

Her hip twinged a bit, the scraped knee throbbed, too, but she’d live. The minor physical bruises were less on her mind than her embarrassment. She’d stayed away from her phone the entire drive, certain she’d find something online already. She’d rather not know right now. Shower and sleep were her main plans.

“You should go before that becomes more than a drizzle.” The sky looked ready to open up, the constant patter slowly turning into heavier drops. “I’m good, really.” Remi was out and not sure to be back tonight. The small bag she’d had draped over her shoulder was the one she used for overnighting, so Cherisse wasn’t entirely sure if this date Remi was going on involved after-hours activities. She hadn’t asked, and Remi hadn’t volunteered any information. She expected a text either way, at some point.

Dale looked uncertain. “I’m going to kill him, I swear,” he mumbled but gestured for her to go inside, which she happily obliged, watching from the window as he ran back to his car.

She wanted to bury herself beneath her covers and not come out again for a while. Just have Remi push some food into her room, and she’d be good to go. Except, rent didn’t pay itself, and her job couldn’t be done while she hid away in her room.

She decided to shower and tend to her boo-boos. She’d been right about her hip—there was a small bluish mark forming there when she checked in the shower. Her knee wasn’t in bad shape, just some scrapes she cleaned with Dettol, gritting her teeth at the burn. A cupcake-decorated bandage slapped over the knee, and she was all good.

At some point, she’d dozed off in front the TV but the constant plings from her phone jerked her awake. The pounding of the rain on the roof had been a soothing rhythm to help get her to sleep, but her message notifications certainly weren’t that. Cherisse squinted down at her phone. The time showed 11 p.m. Just an hour after she’d left the wedding. The text she’d figured would be from Remi wasn’t.