I’d never been so relieved to see someone, yet so angry I could fucking kill them at the same time.

Brooke sat in my passenger’s seat, muttering drunk nonsense. I didn’t bother trying to figure out what she was saying. She was so out of it, there wasn’t any point in talking to her. So I stayed silent, my eyes on the road. Seething.

She’d seemed weird the last few days. I’d stopped by the bookstore yesterday, but Joe had told me she’d called in sick. She’d said the same thing when I’d called her—that she wasn’t feeling well. I knew it was bullshit. She wasn’t sick this time, any more than she’d been sick the last time she’d done this.

When I didn’t hear back from her earlier today, I’d gotten worried. I went to her house, expecting her to open the door a crack and make a show of not wanting me to get her germs. But she hadn’t been home.

She hadn’t answered her phone, either. Not until a couple of hours later when she’d finally picked up, sounding drunk as fuck. I’d heard voices in the background—a guy’s voice specifically. And what had sounded like an engine, and maybe road noise. Then she’d hung up on me.

I’d blown up her phone after that, but nothing. I’d gone out looking for her, still trying to get through. After looking everywhere I could think of, I’d been about ten seconds away from calling the police. Then her number had lit up my phone.

Some guy had been on the other end. I’d almost come unglued, but he’d been calling in the hopes that I was someone who could come get her.

I was pretty sure I’d scared the piss out of him when I’d shown up at his door. I hadn’t meant to be a dick; I was grateful he’d been a decent human being and hadn’t taken advantage of her. But I’d also been angry as hell, and I’d stormed in there like I was ready to rip anyone and everyone to pieces.

If he had hurt her, I would have.

She was passed out again by the time we got to my house. I picked her up, cradling her like a baby, and took her inside. Charlie looked up from the couch. He’d stayed home in case she showed up here while I was out looking.

“Holy shit,” he said. “Is she okay?”

“Just piss fucking drunk,” I said.

“Need any help?” he asked.

“No, I’ve got her.”

I took her upstairs, and before I realized what I was doing, I put her in my bed. I could have dumped her in the extra room, but I didn’t move her.

She didn’t seem like she was going to wake up, so I took off her shoes and pulled the covers up around her. I was exhausted, so I stripped down to my boxers and a t-shirt. I stood next to the bed, hands on my hips, looking at her for a moment. Debating what to do. Should I leave her here and go sleep in the extra room? Sleep in here on the floor? In the end, I decided to say fuck it all to good decisions and got in bed with her.

* * *

Brooke was still sound asleep—or passed out—when my alarm woke me in the morning. I hadn’t slept well. My body ached from sleeping in an awkward position, trying to give her room. As much as I’d wanted to wrap my arms around her and hold her while she slept, I’d resisted the urge. Being pissed had made that easier. But none of it had made for a restful night.

Thankfully, she hadn’t puked in my bed. I held a hand close to her face to make sure she was still breathing—she was—and got up. I was glad I’d woken up first. I didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness of waking up in bed with her when she probably wouldn’t remember most of last night.

I went downstairs to take my pills. It was important for me to take them at the same time every day, hence the alarm. After swallowing them all, I put on a pot of coffee and sat down at the table. They always made me a little shaky after taking them, so I waited for the feeling to pass.

Soft footsteps came from the stairs. They weren’t Charlie’s heavy footfalls. He wasn’t up yet. I wasn’t expecting to see Brooke this early, but she crept into the kitchen, her face a mix of confusion and worry. Her hair was a tangled mess, her shirt disheveled, and her shoes dangled from one hand.

I leveled her with a hard stare. I wasn’t going to let her get away with this shit.

“You don’t know how you got here, do you?” I asked.

She had the decency to look guilty, and shook her head. “No.”

“How about I tell you what I know, and you can fill me in on the rest,” I said.

“Okay.”

“You were apparently too sick to work yesterday, but not too sick to go out,” I said. “You got wasted out of your goddamn mind and took off with a bunch of fucking frat boys.”

She stared at the ground.

“Do you know how lucky you are?” I asked, my voice rising. “That guy you almost hooked up with could have done anything to you last night. You were passed out on his fucking couch. He could have violated you in a hundred different ways.”

“I wasn’t going to hook up with him,” she said, her eyes still on the floor.

“No?” I asked. “He sure seemed to think so. At least you picked a guy with a conscience.”

“That wasn’t what I was doing,” she said.

“Bullshit,” I said, spitting the word at her. “I don’t know what happened at the bar, but you left with a pack of fucking party boys and got in the back of a pickup truck. You tried to jump out while they were joyriding down the goddamn highway.”

“What?” she asked.

“They had to hold you down,” I said. “You could have fucking killed yourself. And then they took you back to their house. You only ended up with me because you were so out of it, the guy decided he didn’t want to fuck some girl’s unconscious body. He called me to come get you.”

Brooke stared at me, stricken. Her face was pale, her eyes bloodshot. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“What were you thinking?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s it?” I asked. “You don’t know. You could have been raped, or killed. I was going out of my fucking mind trying to find you, and you don’t know.”

“I didn’t mean to get so out of control,” she said. “I just wanted…”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said.

I waited to see if she would say anything else. If she’d try to explain what she’d been doing last night. Nothing.

“Fine.” I stood up. “I’ll take you home.”

She stared at me for a second, looking like I’d just slapped her. I tore my eyes away from her pain and grabbed my keys.

“Let’s go,” I said. “I have shit to do today.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll walk,” she said, her voice trembling.

She walked away. I stood in the kitchen and listened to her footsteps, then the door open and close.

“Fuck.” I pushed the chair across the wood floor and it slammed against the wall. Probably left a dent I’d have to fix later.

Charlie poked his head in. “Is it safe?”

“Were you listening?”

“I caught the end,” he said. “Sorry, I came down and you guys were talking. Or, you were mostly.”

“Whatever. I don’t care.”

He grabbed the chair and pulled it back to the table.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “I know she’s been through some shit, but why is she so goddamn self-destructive? Just when it seems like she’s better—she’s not so sad and fucked up all the time—she pulls this crap. She could have died last night.”

“She needs help, Seb,” Charlie said. “Not the kind of help you can give her.”

“I know she does,” I said. “I’ve told her that, but she blows me off.”

“Maybe last night will be a wake-up call,” he said. “Like hitting rock bottom.”

“Will it, though?” I asked. “On her last day in Phoenix, she was a step away from being homeless. Living with a guy who beat the shit out of her. You know why she didn’t want to call the cops that night? She had drugs in her system. She was afraid of getting arrested. Shouldn’t that have been rock bottom?”

“Holy fuck, Seb,” Charlie said. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Because I’m an idiot?” I said, shaking my head. “Because I wanted to help her, and I wanted to believe her when she said she didn’t get high all the time.”

“Do you think that’s what she’s doing now?” he asked. “If she’s using hard drugs, that’s serious, man.”

“She might be,” I said. “Yesterday I would have said not a chance. But after last night? I don’t know.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“I don’t know that either,” I said.

He patted me on the shoulder. “Let me know.”

“Yeah, I will,” I said. “Thanks, man.”

I went upstairs and lay down on my bed. Turning into the pillow she’d used, I took a deep breath. It smelled like her. Not the scent of alcohol coming off her pores. Just her. That warm, soft scent that made my eyes roll back and tension build in my groin.

God, I was stupid. I should walk away. Let her run her life into the ground. But I knew I couldn’t. I was pissed at her, but I wasn’t ready to give up on her yet.

I sat up and grabbed my phone. I should have done this months ago, regardless of what Brooke had said. What she wanted and what she needed were two different things, and I was done letting her dictate either of them. At least when it came to this.

“Hello?” Mrs. Harper said when she answered.

“Hi, it’s Sebastian,” I said. “Sebastian McKinney.”

“Sebastian, hello,” she said, obviously surprised to hear from me.

I took a deep breath. “Okay, here’s the thing…”