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"Not here." I bring my hand to his hair to pull his head away. "Need a bed."
He nods and steps backward.
Our path to his front door is messy. Every few steps, we stop to kiss. To tug at clothes. To pant and groan and express everything except our feelings.
Finally, he slides his key into the door and turns the handle.
He whisks me inside and pins me against the door.
But we're not alone.
There's a woman here.
She's tall and thin, with long dark hair and the same dark eyes as Walker.
And she's…
No.
He pulls back to follow my gaze. "Fuck. Bree, what the fuck?"
Bree. His sister.
I… I've seen her at NA.
His sister is a drug addict.
And she knows I'm an addict.
And he…
Fuck.
Chapter Twenty-One
Iris
She stares at me with recognition in her dark eyes. But it's hazy. She's hazy.
She's high.
Walker is already on the other side of the room. He's calling someone. His parents, I think.
I can't stop staring at his sister.
She keeps asking him to bail her out of messes. That must be an understatement.
But she is trying. I've seen her at a few meetings. The ones in Beverly Hills. One of my friends from rehab talked me into going to sessions that were well-known for celebrity sightings.
We saw a ton of TV actors and musicians, but I still switched to meetings on the Westside. It felt shady trying to see famous people at their weakest.
She was there. Walker's sister.
She tilts her head. "You're Walker's girlfriend?" Her voice is easy. Slow.
"Close enough."
"And he knows you're…" Her brow furrows as she considers her words. Or tries to.
