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She’s out cold, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat, her chest heaving as her heart gallops in her chest.
A shadow falls over us from the doorway.
“Want to tell me again that you didn’t give her anything?” I bark, grabbing some toilet paper to clean her up. She might have got to the toilet before she puked, but that didn’t stop her getting it over herself.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper so only she can hear.
“I didn’t. I fucking swear to you.”
When I look up, I see the truth in his eyes, but it does little to calm my already out of control temper.
“Your cousin needs to watch her fucking back,” I seethe, assuming that this can only have come from her. “For her own good, she might want to go home with you, whenever you fuck off.”
“No, she wouldn’t.”
“No?” I ask. “Who else made Emmie a drink tonight?”
His lips part to argue, but he knows as well as I do that it was Sloane.
“Keep her out of my goddamn way or I’ll strangle the fucking life out of her with my bare hands.”
He holds my eyes and nods once.
“Do you need me to—”
“Just leave. You’ve done enough.”
He swallows harshly, and I’m expecting him to refuse when he finally takes a step back.
It’s not until his footsteps pound down the stairs that I finally speak once more.
“Em, can you hear me?” I ask, my voice cool and calm despite the riot of panic and anger that’s raging inside of me.
I should call Stella and Calli to come look after her and go and deal with Sloane.
Emmie won’t want me looking after her, won’t want me seeing her weak and vulnerable—again, although last time was of her own doing. But despite knowing all that, leaving her right now, even in the care of her friends is not what’s going to happen.
“I’m going to get you out of here, okay?” I ask her, already knowing that she can’t respond.
Slipping one arm beneath her knees and another under her back, I lift her from the floor.
I don’t see her bag or coat with her, and I’m sure as fuck not going to go marching back into the party with her like this to find it.
Tucking her closer to my body, I make my way back down the stairs, but instead of heading toward the party, I turn right, toward one of the many ways out of this house.
I’m not exactly proud of it, but I’ve snuck in and out of this place more times than I can count over the years. I know it almost as well as I do my parents’ estate.
Emmie murmurs something in my arms when the bitter winter air hits us and she unconsciously snuggles closer into my body.
Damn it. I shouldn’t fucking like it so much.
“Come on, you beautiful little liar. You think you can refrain from vomiting in my car on the way home?” I know she’s not going to answer me, but I ask the question anyway.
If she were awake, something tells me that she’d make sure she was sick just to put her mark on the inside of my car like she did on the exterior.
Juggling her in my arms, I manage to unlock the door and pull it open without dropping her to the ground.
I second guess myself as I begin to lower her to the passenger seat. Maybe I should have laid her out in the back.
