“Dad, I gotta go. I’ll visit soon.” I gave him a quick kiss and dashed back to my Civic.
I called Chrissy on my way to Boulder.
“Han?” she answered. I heard music and voices in the background.
“Are you at Dynamite? Seriously?”
“Yyyup. Problems?”
“We were supposed to meet at home. I have—”
“Oh, no. Tonight? No, that was Thursday night.” A certain smudge around the edge of Chrissy’s voice told me she’d been drinking.
“It is Thursday night,” I hissed.
“I had to go out. Seth came by. Can you believe it?” My sister’s voice radiated awe. When it came to Seth Sky, she was a fan girl, not her usual cynical self.
My hand trembled on the wheel.
I ended the call and chucked my phone onto the passenger seat.
Matt wouldn’t like this, I knew, but I had to see my sister. I had to protect her.
I parked on the street and hurried down the alley, flashing my ID as I ducked into the Dynamite Club. The pink-red light, the throbbing music and scent of alcohol and perfume brought back the memory of being here with Matt. I paused in the crowd and closed my eyes. God, I barely knew him then … he was a captivating stranger … and at dinner and then at the club that night, he’d seemed so capable and controlled.
Only later did I get to know the rest of him. Broken Matt. Sweet Matt. Vulnerable Matt. I loved all of it, the good and the bad.
“You look like you’re having a nice dream,” someone whispered.
I kept my eyes closed and counted backward from ten.
Then I gazed up at Seth.
“Who needs nice dreams?” I said. “I have nice things in my life.”
“Lucky you.”
We stared at one another, openly assessing. God, Seth didn’t look good. He wore his dark hair in a ponytail, which accentuated the sharp angles of his face. He’d lost weight. Quite a bit of weight. Bruise-blue shadows filled the hollows of his features. I recognized the glassy gleam in his eyes. He was high or drunk, or both.
My gaze raked down to his boots. His clothes—a plain gray T-shirt and jeans—were clean but loose on his lean frame.
“I want to talk to you,” I said. “Not here.”
Seth shrugged and moved toward the exit, his rangy body slipping through the crowd.
I found Chrissy sharing a booth with a dancer. At least, the girl looked like one of the dancers. Three sweating glasses stood between them.
“You’re drinking.” I frowned at my sister.
“Yeah. One Long Island.”
“Hi!” said the friend. I ignored her.
“One is one too many if you’re going to—” I pursed my lips, but I wanted to scream: If you’re going to have that baby. “If you’re going to drive, Chrissy.” I laid ridiculous emphasis on the word “drive.” “Even one drink could impair things.”
“I think a little bit is okay.”
The stupid friend chimed in: “Driving? Didn’t Seth drive you here?”
“Shut up.” I glared at the friend.
“What the hell?” said Chrissy. “If you’re going to be a bitch, I don’t want to talk to you. I’m actually having a good night. Don’t come around with your boyfriend’s shitty attitude.”
Heat rushed to my head.
I vividly imagined throwing my sister’s drink in her face, and I stormed out before it came to that. In the alleyway, I gulped down summer air. A twist of smoke burned my throat. I coughed and glared at the offending smoker.
Seth Fucking Sky, of course.
“Rough night?” He raised a brow.
“Like you care.” I turned away. It hurt to look at him—to see him hurting. I had played a part in his pain, hooking up with him so carelessly, and that memory was too fresh.
“I do care, Hannah.”
I hugged myself. “You look really bad.”
“Hey, thanks.”
“You know you do. Why can’t you just take care of yourself?” I glared over my shoulder, my eyes burning.
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”