“Theo?” Savannah poked her head into my room. I thanked my lucky stars I wasn’t in the process of throwing up, or destroying every piece of furniture in sight. She looked beautiful today, her hair piled up on top of her head, wearing an outfit she had fashioned out of the old dress Felix had given her. It felt like a lifetime ago. “Who are you talking to?”

Shit. I hadn’t realized I was talking out loud. “No one, sweet girl. Just thinking to myself.” I waved her off and gave her a smile. “Go back to your work with Luther.”

She frowned. I hated it when she frowned. A girl as beautiful as Savannah deserved to smile every second of her entire life. I especially didn’t like it when she frowned at me. “Theo. What the fuck did you do to your hand?”

Double shit. “I, um. Well you see. I…”

My stomach was already churning, rejecting the absence of liquor, and my brain felt like mush. I couldn’t even come up with a halfway decent lie before Savannah flew across the room, taking my bloody knuckle into her hand. “What the hell?”

I sighed. Might as well come out with the truth before she realized it for herself. “I ran out of hooch this morning. I got a little…angry.”

“A little?” Savannah raised her brow at me, reaching for one of the towels I’d tossed on the floor. She tore it into strips. “That looks more than a little angry.”

“I destroyed my setup, but it didn’t feel like enough. So I punched the wall.” I wasn’t sure why I was being so honest with her, except she had never been anything except honest with me. Did it still scare me? Absolutely. But I was more afraid of losing Savannah than anything else in my little world.

She turned around from my dresser, where she had been pouring water on the makeshift bandage. “The cement wall? Theo, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.”

She sat back down next to me, reaching for my injured hand again. “Are you in withdrawal right now?”

I flinched as she touched the cool rag to my knuckles, relaxing once I realized she had a gentle touch. “Not yet. There’s still a bit of alcohol in my system, I think. But it’s coming.” I chewed on my lips, unsure how to broach the next thing. “It won’t be the first time I’ve gone through withdrawal.”

“From alcohol?” She was done removing the excess blood off my flayed skin, so she started wrapping the clean towel strip around my hand. There was still no judgment in her voice. We could’ve been discussing the weather, our favorite color, or any number of things. Not my alcohol addiction.

I shook my head. “No. Never alcohol.”