“I made a mistake. I was hurt and angry and I lashed out at you. It’s not right, and it’s not an excuse… but sometimes we hurt the people we love most, just because we can. Just because we need an outlet for our own pain.” I hold her face in my hands, leaning in until our foreheads are pressed together. “See, you were wrong before when you said no one loves you.I love you. Do you hear me, Chloe Thorne? You’re my sister. You’re my family. And I love you.”
She doesn’t reply. Not verbally. But her body sways forward into mine and her arms — so dangerously frail, they make me want to weep — wind themselves around my body. She’s significantly taller than me even in my three inch heels, but she stoops until her head is resting on my shoulder and hiccups a sob into the crook of my neck.
“Will you come home with me?” I ask, brushing a hank of dirty hair out of her face. “Please, Chloe?”
There’s a long beat of silence. I think she might not answer at all. But then, in her lost-little-girl voice, she simply murmurs, “Home sounds good.”
“Great,” I choke out, blinking rapidly. “Then we’ll all go home. Together.”
I lose the battle against my own tears when my eyes meet Carter’s over the top of Chloe’s head. He and Riggs are standing a few feet away, ready to step in if she gets violent again. But, somehow, I know she won’t. Even higher than a kite, even emotionally shattered, even at her worst… Chloe isn’t capable of causing real damage to anyone except herself.
Thank you,Carter mouths to me, fault lines of relief written plainly on his face as he watches me petting Chloe’s dirty hair in rhythmic strokes.
Still feeling precariously balanced on the edge of a sobbing fit, I try out a tight smile. A moment later, his mouth tugs up at one side to return it.
* * *
By the timeI’ve gotten Chloe showered, changed into pajamas, and tucked into bed, it’s nearly dawn. I close the door to her suite with a soft click and lean back against the wood paneling, weary down to my bones.
“Is she asleep?”
My eyes snap open. I’m shocked to see Carter leaning on the opposite wall, watching me. He looks about as exhausted as I feel. I figured he passed out hours ago.
“Out like a light.”
He nods. “She’ll probably be dead to the world for at least eighteen hours. Whenever she goes on a bender, she needs a full day to recover. Sometimes two.”
“As long as she wakes up sober, I don’t care how long she sleeps.”
“She’ll wake up sober.” He pauses. “It’s how long she’ll stay that way that worries me.”
“Well, we’ll just have to make sure she does.”
“We?”
“We,” I agree, staring at him. “She needs both of us right now.”
Carter doesn’t deny my words, but he doesn’t agree with them either. He just tilts his head back against the stone wall and lets out a deep, rattling sigh. “Fuck, I’m tired. I don’t think I’veeverbeen this tired.”
“Likewise.”
My temple is throbbing with the onset of a migraine. I reach up and pull my hair out of the messy bun I shoved it into earlier. The long waves tumble free around my shoulders, easing a bit of the ache in my head, and I sigh contentedly at the sensation.
“You look like shit.”
I glance up at Carter’s blunt assessment, brows raised. “Gee, thanks. I wasn’t aware I had to look glamorous while shampooing the dried vomit and stale beer out of Chloe’s hair.”
“I’m not talking about your outfit,” he says, scanning me up and down, from the faded tank top to the plain black leggings to the metallic silver nail polish on my toes. “I mean in general. When did you last eat a proper meal? You’re skin and fucking bones, Emilia. And I can tell from those bags under your eyes that you haven’t been sleeping.” He hesitates a beat, gaze narrowing on mine. “How bad are the nightmares?”
Bad.
So bad, I’m afraid to close my eyes at night.
So bad, I need you here to ward off the worst of the darkness swirling inside me.
I glance away. “That’s not your concern anymore.”
“Right.” His scoff is bitter. “Because I’m out of your life. I almost forgot for a second.”