He wasn’t interested in shutting down this party or in calling the police. He was only interested in extracting one very frustrating person.

He walked through downstairs rooms jammed with people and the smells of perfume and sweat. Kids darted out of his way. He didn’t see Blair, so he let himself out through French doors that led to the back deck—

There she was, in the corner, wrapped in the same blanket as a teenage boy who had his tongue down her throat.

Luke’s temper shot upward. “Blair,” he said loudly as he approached.

The two of them jerked apart. Blair looked at him with glassy eyes. For a long moment, neither teenager moved nor spoke, then Blair had the nerve to giggle. “Hey,” she slurred, throwing out her arm. “Look who’s here, everyone! My older brother. He’s a lot of fun. The party can really get rockin’ now.”

He was not amused. “We’re leaving. Same choice I gave you in the alley. Do you want to come with me on your own two feet, or am I going to have to carry you out?”

Exaggerated eye roll. “Are you kidding? I’m not going anywhere. This guy . . .” She patted the side of the boy’s face. Her forehead wrinkled with confusion. “What’s your name again?” she whispered to him.

“Carson.”

“This guy Carson here is a really good kisser.”

“We’re leaving,” Luke said.

Her expression turned pouty. “I’m having fun.”

“Will you be walking out of here? Or will I be carrying you?”

“Why are you even here? You don’t care about me.”

“Sounds like you’re choosing for me to carry you out.” Luke hunched over and tapped his shoulder. “Jump on.”

She tossed aside the blanket. “I’ll walk, you . . . you . . . monster!”

If she remembered this in the morning, she’d be mortified that she’d called him such a lame name.

Her ability to walk in a straight line had deserted her. Instead of trying to get her through the house, he led her down the deck stairs. Twice, he had to save her from breaking her neck.

He cut a path through the cars while she zigzagged behind him singing, “Luke sucks.” It took effort, but he finally got her secured in his passenger seat.

The full moon turned the landscape silver as they drove.

“You think you had it so hard,” she said after a time, her syllables rounded.

“Because I did.”

“And you think I had it so easy.”

“Because you did.”

“You don’t know what it was like for me, growing up in Ethan’s shadow. Mom and Dad sent me to a counselor once, and he told me that I have survivor’s guilt.”

“No,” Luke said tightly. “I have survivor’s guilt.” The words Finley had spoken to him surfaced. “You’re still standing in the jail cell of guilt instead of living like someone who’s free.”