“Definitely one of those.” My throat was thick and my words were slurred. Hell, I probably needed to shove toothpicks into my eyes to keep them open.

Where in the hell had the day gone wrong.

That’s right.

Ava.

Or maybe it was me.

The door opened, and Emmersyn stood there, looking almost as messed up as me, with red eyes and her hair a messy pile on her head. She was fully covered, back to the baggy and bulky sweats and sweatshirt.

And shit. I’d done that.

“Sorry,” I slurred again, and Dom helped me inside. My shoulder banged the doorframe, and the asshole didn’t bother apologizing. Couldn’t he at least try to help me walk straight? I fell into the wall in front of me and held myself up while the room spun.

“I’ll get the idiot to bed,” Dominick said and grabbed my shirt with his fist. “Let’s go, you drunken moron. Everything will be better tomorrow.”

Fat fucking chance of that happening.

Emmersyn thanked him and followed us farther into the house. The stairs swayed and swerved as I walked up them. “I could sleep here.”

My knees wobbled, and I started sitting down, but Dom grabbed me and yanked me to my feet.

“Not on the stairs. Keep moving.”

He shoved me the rest of the way, maybe carried me. I had no clue except eventually my face landed on white fluffy clouds that smelled like lavender and sunshine, and I closed my eyes and breathed in Emmersyn’s scent. “So soft and sweet,” I murmured, hugging the clouds beneath me. “I like it here.”

“You should, it’s your bed.”

“Wha?” My eyes peeled open and… “Oh… yeah…”

A shadow came over the doorway, and I rolled to my side, catching Emmersyn there. Disappointment and sadness on her beautiful face.

“Sorry,” I muttered and tried to shake sobriety into my eyes so I could only see one of her.

She ignored me and glanced at Dom. “I can take it from here.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. We’ll be fine.”

“Except we were fine, and I fucked that up, didn’t I?”

She sighed.

Dominick scowled down at me. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk right now.”

Probably a good idea. I’d had a shit ton of whiskey. Too much. If I spoke again, it might come up.

Hands touched my ankles, too warm and too soft to be Dom’s, and Emmersyn went to work slipping off my sandals. “Go to bed, Kane. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Great. More talking.

Exactly what I excelled at.

Twenty-Nine

Emmersyn

The door to my room creaked open, barely audible, but considering I had the television on a low volume, HGTV in the background while I huddled under my covers, I couldn’t miss it.

Plus, I could sense Kane’s presence like a bomb-sniffing dog.

“Thanks for the ibuprofen and juice.”

Of course he came to thank me for that. I burrowed deeper under the covers, tightening them around me. Stupid of me. I woke up that morning before sunrise, and since I’d tossed and turned most of the night and barely slept, made my way downstairs and made myself coffee. Then, since I didn’t want to run into Kane, I hurried back to my room to drink it. But then, because I was a complete idiot and way too damn nice, I’d gone back downstairs and taken him the juice and pills.