Chapter 80: Your Father Is About to Die
It was a rare opportunity to drink his fill, and Roman Rowe went wild, holding nothing back.
But for a young man who’d never touched alcohol before, how high could his tolerance possibly be...
The result was him sprawled on the table like a limp noodle, muttering curses.
Frost Shaw glanced at him, couldn’t be bothered to care, and turned his gaze back to Lily Hart.
He saw her squirming restlessly in her chair, swaying back and forth, and knew she was a little drunk.
He stood up, took a step forward, and placed both hands on her shoulders, hoisting her up.
He said softly, "You’ve had too much to drink. Let’s go upstairs to sleep—no, I mean, I’ll take you upstairs to sleep."
They were so close. Her faint fragrance rushed into his nostrils, and his ears turned slightly red as he stumbled over his words.
He helped Lily Hart into the driver’s seat and was immediately faced with a dilemma. If she went up and didn’t get out of the seat, how would he get up?
He couldn’t just let Lily Hart sit in the chair all night, could he?
He supported Lily Hart with one hand, keeping her from toppling over, and thought in silence for a long time.
He finally decided to shift her over a little, perched himself on half of the driver’s seat, and pressed the button.
After a moment of dizziness, they arrived on the RV’s second floor. Frost Shaw helped her stand and guided her to the bed with an arm around her.
Lily Hart was cooperative the whole time, her mind just felt fuzzy. Everything she looked at had a double image, and trying to think even a little made her dizzier.
She was only aware that someone was supporting her, and she leaned against him, feeling completely at ease.
The moment she touched the bed, Lily Hart couldn’t stop herself from falling backward. Her head was spinning, and all she wanted was to sleep.
Frost Shaw grabbed her slender, burning-hot wrist, forcing her to stay seated. "Don’t. You haven’t washed your face yet. Don’t lie down."
Lily Hart covered her face with one hand, her voice squeezed out from between her teeth as she said reluctantly, "Ngh, don’t wanna... I wanna sleep..."
"You have to." ’Otherwise, I’m afraid you’ll chew me out tomorrow.’
Frost Shaw went to the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth, wet it with water, and returned to the bedside to pull her up.
He scrubbed her face messily and roughly. Lily Hart was too weak to resist or struggle, feeling as if her skin was about to be rubbed raw!
When he was finally done with her face, Frost Shaw decided it was good enough. Thankfully, Lily Hart was wearing clogs, which were easy to take off.
After heaving her onto the bed and haphazardly throwing the blanket over her, Frost Shaw looked at her peaceful, sleeping face, clapped his hands in satisfaction, and left, pleased with his work.
On the first floor of the RV, Roman Rowe was still sleeping like a log. With great impatience, Frost Shaw dragged his entire body away.
He dragged him straight to his own room, tossed him onto the bed, shut the door, and turned to go wash up.
Sunlight bathed the earth, marking the start of a new day. Lily Hart awoke with a start, blinking her eyes.
’Her memories gradually returned. Last night... did I go to Nutwood Base to beat the crap out of Jason Lynch? And then came back and shot the shit with my two underlings until midnight?’
’The memories after that were faint, practically nonexistent. I have no memory of how I got upstairs.’
’Or how... I ended up in bed, with the blanket so neatly tucked in.’
’It must have been Frost Shaw. He probably called Diana Sharp and Tina Jacobs to help. Otherwise, an underage kid like him...’
’Usually, if I just get a little too close, his face and ears turn red. Nope, he’s just too young.’
’He probably couldn’t bring himself to do something as intimate and ambiguous as helping me into bed.’
Lily Hart dismissed the thought. After washing up and heading downstairs, she spotted Frost Shaw at once.
Their eyes met. Just as Lily Hart was about to greet him, he quickly averted his gaze, looking for all the world like he had a guilty conscience.
Lily Hart was baffled.
Frost Shaw didn’t dare to look her directly in the eye. It made him recall last night all too easily—her soft, sweet voice and the faint, clean scent about her.
He turned his head, pretending to casually sip his water, but inside, his heart was pounding like a drum.
"FROST SHAW—" An angry roar shattered the tranquility between them.
Roman Rowe, one hand clutching his neck and the other on his lower back, leaped directly down from the second-floor balcony of the convenience store.
He charged right up to Frost Shaw and furiously berated him, "You! Frost Shaw! Because of you, I slept so badly last night that my back is killing me, and I have a stiff neck!"
Lily Hart’s gossip radar started beeping wildly. Her eyes lit up as she looked between the two of them. ’What’s going on here?!’
Frost Shaw said coolly, "What does that have to do with me?"
"What do you think? If you hadn’t just carelessly tossed me onto the bed, forcing me to sleep in an awkward position all night, would I be like this?"
Roman Rowe leaned in close to his reddened ear and yelled, as if trying to deafen him.
Frost Shaw leaned his upper body away from him like a roly-poly toy. "What does that have to do with me?"
Roman Rowe fumed, "You!"
’Tch, how boring,’ Lily Hart thought, turning her head away from them.
Little did she know that the moment she turned away, Frost Shaw shot Roman Rowe a furious glare and clamped a hand over his mouth, telling him to keep it down.
"Mmph! Mmph?" Roman Rowe glared back at Frost Shaw in disbelief. He tried to pull the hand away, but the sudden movement tweaked his back.
The pain shot from his back through his entire body. He went limp and, with a yelp of "Ouch!", fell against Frost Shaw.
That’s right. He did it on purpose.
Lily Hart turned her head to see the two of them in a face-to-face embrace, Roman Rowe’s upper body draped over Frost Shaw’s shoulder, a pained look on his face.
Frost Shaw’s shoulders were just wide enough to support Roman Rowe. He was annoyed. "Get up." He reached out to push him.
Roman Rowe refused to move. Getting revenge for the previous night, he stubbornly clung to Frost’s neck, refusing to let go.
’Now this is getting interesting.’ Lily Hart watched their squabble with relish, ordering herself some soy milk and fried dough sticks to eat while she enjoyed the show.
The two of them smelled the food and looked over in unison. Roman Rowe, clutching his back, struggled to his feet and darted in front of her.
He blinked his eyes, looked at the fried dough sticks, then back at Lily Hart, and pressed his hands together in a clear gesture of begging.
Lily Hart tossed him a fried dough stick. "Go on, eat up." She said it as if she were teasing a puppy.
Frost Shaw looked over as well. He didn’t say a word, but his blatant stare made it hard to feign ignorance.
"Eat, eat, eat. Everyone, come and eat." Lily Hart took out seven or eight more portions, directing her words to Frost Shaw.
Frost Shaw was surprised and flattered. He was just getting up when he heard Easton’s loud voice thanking her from behind.
"Thank you, Lily!" Easton and a few others came running over and began to eat in a very polite and orderly manner.
Frost Shaw faltered for a moment, the smile on his lips tightening slightly, but he squeezed in to join the huddle anyway.
Just as the group was happily eating breakfast, Jason Lynch woke up in the infirmary. A crowd of people instantly surrounded his bed, packing it in so tightly that not even air could get through.
"Base Commander, you’re awake?"
"How are you feeling, Base Commander?"
"Does your head still hurt, Base Commander?"
The constant cries of "Base Commander," like the chirping of little chicks, made Jason Lynch’s head buzz.
"SHUT UP!" Jason Lynch roared. The sudden movement pulled at the wounds all over his body and his aching head, causing him to grimace in pain before fainting again.
The doctor came forward and said helplessly, "Make way, everyone, make way." He pushed through the crowd and began to examine Jason Lynch using the most basic diagnostic methods.
’This bunch of higher-ups... not a single one of them had shown up last night. But the moment they heard he might wake up this morning...’
’...every last one of them rushed over. They just stood there waiting and watching by the bedside, acting as if their own fathers were on their deathbeds. It’s disgusting.’