“Chloe, cut the shit,” Carter hisses, enveloping one of her hands in his fist before she manages to scratch an eye out. “You’re high.”
“I’m not high!” she screams, her eyes wild. “I’m just havingfun!Something you wouldn’t know anything about since all you do these days is sit around moping about a girl who doesn’t give a flying fuck about either of us!”
I flinch. There’s raw pain beneath those words. PainIcaused, by pushing her away. The wave of guilt that crashes over me in that moment is so strong, I’m nearly bowled over.
“Chloe, just stop—” Carter starts, but she’s not done yelling.
“I’m not the one who needs an intervention. You are. You’re the addict, big brother. You just can’t see it because your drug doesn’t come in a pill or a bottle. It’s a girl you can’t have, and it’s fucking killingyou. Isn’t it?”
“Enough.”
“I agree! Itisenough!” She laughs crazily, throwing her head back and closing her eyes, emaciated shoulders heaving. The abrupt shift from anger to amusement is unsettling. “Enough of the Emilia show. Enough of your ridiculous unrequited love. Just…enough.”
Carter’s jaw tightens, teeth clenching to contain words I’m sure he wants to shout at her. But there’d be no point — she’s not herself right now. She probably won’t even remember this conversation when she comes down from whatever she’s on.
They drag her deeper into the back room, kicking and screaming the whole way for them to release her. Her heeled boot makes contact with an empty keg and sends it spinning like a silver top. There’s an ear-splitting metallic clatter as it smacks to a stop against the far wall. The sound sets off another round of her cackles.
“Chloe, can you just cooperate for five fucking minutes?” Carter grunts, trying to keep her upright. She’s gone ragdoll-limp in his arms. “We have a car waiting outside.”
Her head lolls sideways, as if she hasn’t even heard him. “Guess what, Carter? Being heartbroken is a waste of time. Love isn’t evenreal. The sooner you learn that, the happier you’ll be.” Tears have started streaking down her cheeks, leaving thick streaks of black mascara in their wake. “I don’t love anyone and no one loves me. And I’mhappy.” She sobs out the word — a broken, twisted sound. “Don’t you want to be happy like me, Carter?”
Christ.
Chloe’s obvious agony is gut-wrenching to witness. Each tear she sheds hits me like a lance straight to the heart. Unable to watch from the sidelines anymore, I step out of the shadows.
My heels click against the slimy floor as I cross to her. Riggs shoots me a warning look, but I don’t heed it. My attention is on the slip of a girl in Carter’s grasp.
Her arms hang floppily at her sides. Her collarbones could cut glass. Black tears leak steadily out beneath her closed eyelashes. Seeing them makes me want to cry too, but I keep my emotions tightly in check. Falling apart won’t help matters.
I come to a stop less than a foot away. Close enough that, if she wanted to, she could claw my face off with her chipped, electric yellow manicure.
I really hope she doesn’t.
My throat is thick; it’s hard to speak around the lump of emotions lodged inside it. “You don’t look very happy to me, Chloe.”
Her eyes open at the sound of my voice. Her pupils are so wide, they’ve nearly swallowed the light blue of her irises. It takes a minute for her to focus on my face; for her drugged brain cells to process the person standing six inches from her. When she finally recognizes me, her tears turn from a slow trickle to a torrential flood.
“E?”
I blink back tears of my own, hearing the broken way she murmurs my nickname. “Yeah. It’s me. It’s E.”
“What are you doing here?” She blinks slowly, scanning me up and down with a glazed stare. “Why are you dressed like a 1920s sexpot?”
Laughing a little, I reach up and wipe the tears off her face with my fingertips, doing my best to rub away the worst of the mascara streaks. “I’m here to bring you home, silly.”
“Home?”
I nod.
“I don’t want to go home. I hate Hightower.” She sounds like a lost little girl.
“I don’t mean Hightower.”
She stares at me, not understanding.
“I want you to come home with me. To the castle,” I explain softly. “That’s where you belong.”
She shakes her head vigorously, sending tendrils of hair whipping into her eyes. “You don’t want me there. You sent me away.”