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“A what?” I prompted when he fell silent.

He exhaled slowly. “It’s a private residential clinic.”

I stared more closely at the building. It looked as though it had stood there since the Victorian era, its weathered stone walls the color of old ash beneath a dark slate roof. A rain-slicked drive curved toward a heavy oak door, bordered by neatly trimmed hedges that made the place feel more secluded than welcoming. Warm light glowed behind a handful of windows, but it did little to soften the bleak, institutional feel of the place.

“I don’t think they do dinner,” I said.

Tyler gave a nervous little laugh. “No, probably not.”

“Where are we?” At least I’d left the fuck out of it this time.

“The New Forest.”

“The New Forest!” I glanced at the clock on the dashboard to see if that was even feasible. Apparently, it was. My nap had lasted a couple of hours, during which Tyler had driven me considerably farther from London than promised.

He unclipped his seatbelt and twisted around to face me. The careful expression of concern set alarm bells ringing. “I didn’t think you’d agree to come if I told you where we were really going.”

For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. He’d known I wouldn’t come, so he’d lied about our destination and waited for me to fall asleep before driving me here, anyway. “Too right, I wouldn’t have done. I wanted lobster, not a…” I waved a hand at the silent building. “Whatever this is.”

“I told you. It’s a private residential facility.”

“Giving it a name doesn’t explain why we’re here.”

He reached across and took my hand. “You’ve been partying too hard.”

I laughed, but quickly stopped when I realized he wasn’t joking. “I’ve always partied too hard. You used to party just as hard. It’s how we met, remember?”

Tyler nodded, not disputing that we’d literally bumped into each other on a dance floor and things had gone from there. “Yeah, but I always knew when to stop.”

“And I don’t? Is that what you’re trying to say?” I snatched my hand away.

“You’ve been under a lot of strain lately. What with your mother’s death—”

“My mother didn’t just die.”

“I know. I’m aware of that.” Tyler paused, visibly weighing whatever he planned to say next. “It’s just that you never talk about it.”

I turned away to stare out of the window, deliberately avoiding the building. I focused on a tree instead. It wasn’t a very interesting tree, and I had no clue what type it was, but studying it was still preferable to the empathy coming off Tyler in waves.

“And then there’s your strained relationship with your father…”

“I’ve always had a strained relationship with my father,” I told the tree.

“And I know you’ve been doing way too many drugs when you go out.”

That got my attention. “You know that how?”

“People talk.”

“What people?”

“Remy said—”

I whipped around to face him. “You’ve been talking to Remy? Why? He’s my friend, not yours.” I knew I sounded like a petulant child, but that didn’t make the sense of betrayal any less real. Remy had been my best friend since we were both six, and I didn’t like the idea of him and Tyler discussing me behind my back.

“We’re both worried that you might do something stupid.”

I frowned. “Something stupid like what?” It took a few seconds for his meaning to sink in. When it did, disbelief gave way to anger. “You think I’m going to kill myself. I’m not suicidal.”