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“I won't.”

He waits until I’m unlocking my Bronco before driving off.

Taylor's porch light clicks on as cold October air chills my skin. I stand on the curb for a minute and stare at the night sky, arms crossed to keep warm. I could probably go up there and knock. Bet Salem's still in there, chilling with him and Huck, watching movies or some shit. Bet they'd love it if I came inside.

Instead, I end up sliding into my Bronco to rest my forehead against the steering wheel.

All of my friends are happy and in love. For once in fuck knows when, no drama or trauma is happening around us. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy as shit for everyone, but part of me feels… useless.

No Taylor to keep an eye on, no Xed or Matty to check in with. Not that Salem ever needed a shoulder to cry on, but I miss her showing up at the apartment to rage about men while she made business plans for us.

Now it's just me.

Well, Devon and me.

That fucker needs serious help, but he ain't getting it from me. I stuck my neck out for him once by agreeing to let him come on our tour last year, and look how that ended up. Nope, I'm staying clear of that fucking asshole forever.

Right?

“Yeah, right,” I tell myself, throwing the Bronco into drive before heading toward the Prospector.

Booze and women—that's all I need to get me out of the funk I'm in. Once I get properly fucked and fucked up, everything will make sense again.

I just need to keep telling myself that.

CHAPTER TEN

Devon

I feel like a corpse.

Sweat plasters my shirt to my skin, even though I'm frozen solid. Every beat of my heart skips like it just wants to give up, and I just wish it would. I tuck my shaking fingers under my pits, hoping it'll trick my body into calming the hell down, but it only makes me aware of how hollow I feel inside.

God, I’m so fucking tired.

I promised Logan I'd stay on the couch when he went to bed last night, but I just want to fucking bolt right out the front door. I don’t even know why I make promises anymore when I know I can't keep them. Maybe a part of me hopes that, just once… I will.

So far, no dice.

Blinking up at the ceiling, I watch early-morning shadows dance across the wall as another set of shivers wracks my body. Finally managed to doze off briefly, and when I woke up, someone had placed a bucket on the floor beside me in case I puke. I don't know if it was Logan or his boyfriend, but either way, I won't need it. I haven’t thrown up since my last summer at camp, and that was the day I vowed that I never would again.

When the bedroom door creaks open, I quickly shut my eyes, hoping whoever it is will think I'm asleep. Or dead. Soft footsteps draw near. A hand gently touches my forehead, causing me to flinch back, and my eyes fly open to take in Logan standing above me with his brows pinched in concern.

“Go away,” I mumble, turning my head toward the couch cushions. Even that little movement sends a wave of nausea barreling through me. Fuck, I just want to snort a line right now and make it go away.

“You look like shit,” is all he says in response.

“Feel like shit.” Everything inside me recoils when he kneels down beside me, and I jerk away on instinct. “Don’t touch me,” I snap.

Logan presses the back of his hand to my forehead anyway. “You’re burning up. When’s the last time you had water? Or food? Or⁠—”

“Why the fuck do you care? Go be with your wife. Or your boyfriend.”

He studies me for a long moment. “I've always cared, Dev. You ran from me, not the other way around.”

I try to scoff, but it comes out weak and pathetic. “You didn't want me, you wanted Salem.”

“I wanted you both.”