“Zane, I—”
“Let’s go, drunk girl.” Max grabbed my arm and pulled me away from Zane. “Appreciate you looking out for her,” he said.
His words filled me with a warm fuzzy feeling, but my blood quickly turned cold when Zane gritted out, “I didn’t do it for her.”
A small whimper escaped me and Max shot me a strange look.
“I think I’m going to puke.” I slapped a hand over my mouth.
“Fuck’s sake,” my brother mumbled, dragging me toward the big imposing gates of our house.
“I’ll text you tomorrow,” Chloe called, and I waved a hand in the direction of her voice.
“Don’t tell Mom and Dad,” I murmured against my palm, trying to get air in and keep my stomach contents inside my stomach where they belonged.
“And here I thought I was the wild child.” He slipped his arm around me and guided me through the gates and up to the house. “You’re lucky Dad is trying to get back into Mom’s graces. They went up to bed about an hour ago with a bottle of chardonnay and a box of chocolate-covered strawberries. Pretty sure he’s going to try and sex his way back into her favor.”
“Oh my God,” I breathed, trying to block that mental image out of my head. “Why would you tell me that?”
“Because, dear sister, if I have to endure his lame attempt at romance, so do you.” Max chuckled, the sound drowned out by the eerie silence of our huge house as we slipped inside.
“Kitchen? Bathroom? Or straight to bed?” he asked.
“Bed, definitely bed.” Maybe with a trash can close by just in case all the vodka decided to make a reappearance.
Max helped me upstairs and into my room. I plopped down on the bed and managed to wrestle out of my sweater.
“Celeste, seriously, I don’t need to see that shit.”
“Grow up, Max. They’re only boobs.”
He muttered something under his breath. “You want me to tell Mom and Dad you’re sick in the morning?”
“I’ll see how I feel.” I pulled the cover over my head and curled into a ball, trying to breathe through the nausea rolling through me.
“Get some sleep.”
“Mm-hmm.”
But I didn’t sink into a deep, dreamless sleep. I fell into a nightmare.
And the only person I wanted to save me was a boy who hated me and everything I was.
* * *
“Celeste, what on earth happened?” Mom asked the second I dragged my hungover butt into the kitchen.
“I think I ate something.” I clutched my stomach hoping she couldn’t see through my lies.
“Sit, I’ll make you my special smoothie. It’ll fix you right up.”
“Uh, sure, Mom.” I didn’t have the energy to fight.
“I already let school know you won’t be in today.”
“Thanks.”
“Hopefully you’ll be feeling better by tomorrow, I already told Mrs. Sinclair you’ll be at the center.”