“I brought you something to eat. I figured you might be hungry.” I pause. “Don’t worry, I didn’t attempt to cook. This is Patricia’s doing.”
“Thanks, E.”
I set the tray down on her bedside table and settle myself on the end of her bed. She makes no move to pick up the sandwich or soup I’ve brought her. She’s so thin, I want to shove it into her hands and watch her devour every bite, just to assure myself she’s actually eating. I knit my knuckles together to contain the impulse as I lift my eyes to hers.
“How are you feeling?”
“Honestly?” She laughs without humor. “Like a dumpster fire.”
I wince. “Sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? You didn’t make me snort a fuck-ton of coke followed by what I think was a tab of molly, then wash it down with at least four vodka sodas. That was all me.”
“How much of last night do you remember?”
“Bits and pieces.” Her head tilts. “I remember you standing in that room with all the tapped kegs. Hugging me. Telling me you wanted me to come home.” She swallows harshly. “I don’t remember how we got here, though, or how I got into these god-awful pajamas.”
“Hey!” I protest, glaring at her oversized t-shirt. The phrase NAMASTE IN BED is emblazoned across its front. “That is my favorite sleep shirt! Just because it’s not the designer lingerie you usually wear…”
“I usually don’t wear anything.” She winks with a shadow of her old humor. “Naked sleep is the best sleep.”
“Trust me, I saw so much naked Chloe last night, I’m set for life.”
Her brows lift. “What?”
“Who do you think helped you shower and put you to bed?”
She groans. “God, I’m sorry. I’m such a fucking mess. You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit, E. You’ve got enough on your plate.”
“Right now, the most important thing on my plate is you,” I inform her. “I meant what I told you last night — you’re my family. There’s nothing I won’t do to help you. That includes shampooing questionable substances out of your hair.”
She winces. “Gross.”
“Totally.”
“I guess I owe you big time now, huh?”
“You don’t owe me anything, Chloe. But you owe it to yourself to figure out why you’re using till the point of blacking out on disgusting bar floors.” I tread carefully, not wanting to push her too hard right off the bat. “You’ve never been averse to the party scene, but from what I can see… things have reached a new level. Not necessarily ahealthylevel, if you want my opinion.”
She’s curled into a ball, knobby knees pulled to her chest. She stares at the bedspread so intently, you’d think it were a Monet.
“I’m not trying to lecture you, Chloe. God knows, I’m the last person in the world who should be lecturing anyone about anything. I’m a freaking mess, too.” I shake my head lightly. “But I’m worried about you. So is your brother.”
“My brother.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes lift to mine, slightly narrowed. “You know, I’ve always found that a little funny.”
“What?”
“You call me your sister. But never once have I heard you refer to Carter as your brother. He’s always very clearlymybrother… never yours.”
I swallow nervously. “Your point being?”
“No point. I just find it interesting.”
I’m suddenly glad she only remembers fragments of last night. She’d be deeply mortified if she knew half the things she said to Carter about me.