He stops talking and gazes into my eyes, my heart picking up speed and feeling warmer with the intensity of his stare. Just when I think he’s about to walk out of the room with me, he pulls his hand away.

“You should be as mad as me. You meant nothing to her. She only hired you so I’d have someone to fuck when I came home.”

Blood drains from my face. The room erupts in chaos. Everything happens so fast, and yet, it all moves around me in slow motion. A fist comes flying across my vision, landing square on Murph’s jaw, knocking him back into the arms of his friends, the two guys who carry him away while he fights back, trying to get free of their hold and get in a punch of his own.

Ryder’s arms are around my waist, pulling me to the kitchen. Tia’s there. She’s wiping something from my face, and it takes me a minute before I realize I’m crying. Sobbing. Moisture leaks down my cheeks and my chest is heaving in sobs.

The bourbon must have kicked in because my vision is blurry, and it’s increasingly difficult to stand straight on my feet.

Somehow all I really want is to get away from the kitchen and go to him. I want to calm him, tell him what’s on my mind, how angry I am. But Tia and Ryder won’t let me leave. They’re practically pouring water down my throat and wiping my face with a cold, wet washcloth.

The crowd is still lingering in the living room as Tia escorts me to my room, and I can’t focus on anyone or anything. All I can feel are tears and bourbon.

But before we leave the room, my sight catches on a face in the crowd, and although my brain processes who it is, my body refuses to react.

Staring at me with a sly, all-knowing smirk on his face, Hugo watches me, and just when I realize I should scream or run, everything goes black.

Murph

When I peel my eyes open it feels like someone cracked me over the top of the head with a hammer. It’s still dark outside, and the house is silent. The events of the night replay in my head. Everything I said feels like another swift punch to the jaw.

I deserved it, and worse. Not the stuff about Hazel. They deserved to hear that.

What I said to Savannah was beyond fucked up, on top of being just plain wrong.

I’m suddenly desperate to find her. Even if it’s just to look at her, know she’s okay.

The house is dark and quiet as I tiptoe down the hall. Her door is closed, and I hesitate with my hand over the knob. If this were a week ago, I would walk right in. But now…