The minutes on the clock feel like hours. Fallon left without her cell phone or her purse hours ago, and I don’t know what to do. I called my dad, but he was at her parents’ house, and she hadn’t been there all night. I didn’t want to alarm anyone, so I acted as if it was no big deal. But fuck, if she isn’t home by midnight, I’m going out and finding her.

I don’t know why I freaked out when she tried to kiss me. If I had my head on straight, I would’ve jumped at the chance, and probably should’ve. Looking back on things, I realize just how absurd this whole lying about Mallory thing is. I need to come clean about it and then tell her how I really feel . . . I just have to.

I’m about to grab my keys and go looking for her when I hear her laughter out in the hallway, and my heart jumps. Anxious, I reach for the handle, ready to rip the door open and apologize for my earlier actions, but a man’s voice stops me. Looking out the side glass window panel, I pull back the small curtain and see Fallon and some random guy I don’t recognize. He has her pressed against the wall. They are making out, hands groping all over each other’s bodies. My stomach churns watching her like this with someone else.

She has the keys in her hand and is trying to unlock the door as he mauls her. Just by the way she’s fumbling, I can tell she’s smashed out of this world. I yank the door open, and both of them are bombed looking over at me.

“Hey, Big Dick!” she slurs, and I stand in the way of them entering. Anger and bitterness eat through my insides as I fume. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Coming home!” She pushes past me, and I let her in but stop the douche bag in the hallway.

“What the fuck!” He slurs almost as bad as she does, but I don’t give a fuck.

“Night’s over,” I say, looking down into his pathetic brown eyes.

“Come on, Parks!” Fallon pulls at me to let him in, but I don’t budge.

“No way, you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“Fuck you!” She hits my back while Chuck-o and I have a stare down.

His eyes are heavy, and then he waves his arm back at us and says, “Fine, I’ll just go home and bang my girlfriend.”

I slam the door, flip the lock, and turn to Fallon, who is standing there frozen.

“Did he really just say that?”

I nod, and she charges for the door, but I stop her, “Trying to talk sense into that wack job isn’t going to get you anywhere.” I place my body between her and the door. However she’s relentless as she claws at me trying to get out, but I hold her shoulders keeping her in place.

Then the tears start, and she falls against my chest. I easily lift her off the floor and cradle her close as I move to her bedroom. Gently, I lay her down on the bed just as her tears turn into a fit of drunken giggles.

“I’m cursed, aren’t I?”

“No,” I tell her as I take a seat next to her. She rolls to her side. Her eyes are closed. “How much did you have to drink?” I’ve never seen her this fucked up.

She shrugs, and I move the hair out of her face. “You feel okay?” She nods a little bit.

Her warm skin beneath my fingertips is what I live for. I just wish she knew that. I watch her body switch from coherent to a deep sleep state and then the words just come out.

“You’re not cursed, Fallon, you just can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

Her breathing is soft, and I whisper, “I love you, Fallon Grace.” Saying those words feels good even if she can’t hear me.

“I love you, too, Parks.” Her words are a tiny breath of a whisper right before she nuzzles closer to my body and plummets into sleep.

* * *

I didn’t sleep at all. All I thought about were those five little words that Fallon said in response to my confession. And now . . . here I am, more conflicted than ever. A few weeks ago, I thought she loved someone else and would be appalled if I ever told her how I felt. Now, I can’t stop thinking that maybe she does love me.

And if so . . . what’s next for us?

Am I supposed to let go of all my worries and reservations so we can ride off into the sunset together? The thought is great but unlikely.

Or did she even mean what she said? Deep down inside my soul, I know I love Fallon more than I could ever love anyone else, but she was really drunk last night. There is no way to know if she meant it or not.

I’ve already lost my sister and almost didn’t make it through that myself if I lost Fallon too, I’d be done.

Fallon jolts out of the bed and rushes into the bathroom getting sick.

God damn it.

I follow her, but she sees me and waves me away, which is something she should know better than to try. I’m not going anywhere. Grabbing a hair tie from her makeup bag on the counter, I pull her hair back for her. Once it’s all out of the way, I sit on the edge of the bathtub, gently rubbing her back. Her body is cold, and it takes a long time for the vomiting to stop.

When she finally takes a deep breath and rests back on her heels, I reach over and flush away the mess.

“You okay?” I whisper, figuring she’s too hung over for regular volume.

She shakes her head, and I get just how she’s feeling . . . it’s the worst.

“Come on,” I tell her and help her stand. She’ll feel better in bed. As she stands and turns to look at me, her eyes roll back into her head, and I lose her.

“Fallon!” I scream and grip tightly to her crumpling body. Her knees buckle, and all of her weight is in my hands.

“Wake up, goddamn it!” I scream, and she mumbles something, still conscious but not fully awake. Something is fucking wrong.

“Fallon!” I scoop her fully into my arms, and her head rolls to one side. Shit, she’s completely out. Before even considering any other options, I grab my car keys to take her to the hospital. I can get there faster than an ambulance can get here.

“Stay with me,” I tell her, fear consuming me as I rush her to the car as fast as humanly possible.