The prom after-party was still well underway, with groups of teenagers spilling out into the front yard, standing around on their phones or taking selfies by the string up in the oak tree, or sitting slumped by the porch. The main party seemed to be in the backyard—I could see heads bobbing over the side fence, and the thudding music seemed to be coming from there, too. The house was secluded, at the end of a dirt road lined by houses on enormous properties filled with horses and goats. I could see why they’d elected to have the party here.

At first I’d offered to go alone, too guilty to ask Ainsley to get dressed and leave the house so late on my account. But when she’d pointed out someone needed to ride alongside Brougham to keep him safe on the ride home, I couldn’t argue. The only caveat Ainsley had was telling Mom what we were doing, but she took the responsibility for that one, so I wouldn’t technically be breaking my grounding. Not if it was Ainsley who wanted someone to stay over.

I texted Finn as we pulled up. There was no point entering the lion’s den hoping to pull off a search and rescue mission; we’d just end up chasing each other all over the house.

Now we just had to hope he remembered to check his phone through the haze of alcohol and god-knew-what-else.

“Is that Luke?” Ainsley asked, sitting up straighter in her seat.

I squinted. “Ainsley, that looks literally nothing like him.”

“Well, I don’t know, it’s been a while.”

“It’s been ten months since you left school!”

“Right.” She gave me a grave look. “Ten long months that changed me in ways you couldn’t imagine.”

“Sure thing, Ains.”

“Okay, that’s definitely him. By the porch.”

This time, she was right. There was Luke, dressed in a rumpled tuxedo, walking—or, rather, stumbling, alongside Finn. Between them, they supported Brougham, who was making a frankly pitiful attempt at walking. His hair was messy and sticking to his forehead with sweat, his eyes were glazed over and unfocused, and his posture gave the overall impression of someone whose bones had inexplicably evaporated. He was wearing a dress shirt that’d once been white but was now stained in a medley of yellows and pinks.

He looked miserable.

I practically launched myself headfirst out of the car to run to them. Ainsley followed at my heels.

“Hey,” I breathed as I reached the boys. Finn looked relieved. Brougham lifted a heavy head and glowered at me.

“I’m fine,” he said, wrenching his arm out of Luke’s grip. He wrenched a little too hard, though, and went stumbling into Finn, who’d already braced himself for the impact.

“If even I think you’re not fine, you’re not fine,” Finn said. “Hey, Ainsley.”