“Whit’s looking for me.”
I open my eyes to find him watching me.
“I have to go.”
Unable to find my voice, I nod, the movement slow. I feel…weird. And I don’t think it’s just from the kisses we shared.
He’s laughing. “You high, Syl?”
No one calls me Syl. Not really. I’m Sylvie. That’s it.
“Maybe,” I offer, my voice weak.
“We should do this again.” He kisses me, a brush of lips so soft, I could almost imagine it didn’t actually happen. “Tomorrow?”
“It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow,” I protest.
“Even better reason to do it then. We’ll need to be high to get through the family shit,” he mutters.
I frown, his words making me ask the question. “Why aren’t you with your family for the holidays?”
“They’d rather go off by themselves and try to fix their fucked-up marriage.” He rubs a hand across his mouth. “Sorry. Brutal but it’s the truth.”
“I think my parents aren’t doing well either,” I admit softly.
“Your brother said they’ll probably get a divorce soon.” And with that shocking statement, Spencer heads for the door. “Wait a few minutes before you come back into the house.”
“Okay,” I say to his retreating form, but I’m not sure if he even heard my response.
The door shut behind him the moment the word left my mouth.
I think about what he said the entire walk back to the house. Turning his words over and over in my mind. The kiss was amazing, and yes, I’m probably a little high, thanks to the shot-gunning or whatever you call it, but I can’t stop thinking about the offhand statement he made about my parents.
And how they’re going to get a divorce, according to my brother.
I can’t wrap my head around it. Worse, I hate how scared it makes me feel.
If my mother doesn’t have my father to focus on anymore, that means she’s going to focus all of her attention on…
Me.
NINETEEN
SYLVIE
My eyes pop open,slowly adjusting to the darkness of the night. I turn my head, checking the alarm clock that was left behind by the previous owner. All of the furnishings in this house came from them, and while they’re not necessarily my taste, they work in the moment.
The red numbers on the clock screen read 3:22.
Blindly I reach out, my hand hitting a solid, warm body lying next to me. Spencer. We had sex before we fell asleep, and it was…
It was so good. As usual.
“Why are you awake?” he murmurs into his pillow, his voice muffled.
“I had a dream. More like a memory.” I hesitate, wondering if I should tell him.
“What about?” he asks when I remain silent.