Page 47

Get your fucking hand off her.

She should push him away. She should step aside.

My voice comes out rough, guttural, as I bark, “Isla.”

She jerks her head up, eyes widening the second they meet mine. The flicker of worry there guts me.

I swallow back the nausea. “Can we talk?”

The delicate column of her throat twitches as she swallows.

Turner says, “Look, it’s not my place⁠—”

“Exactly.” I take a step closer, now chest to chest with him. “It’s not your place, so shut your fucking mouth.”

Asher drapes his arm over my shoulder, drawing me to his side. “Easy, man. We’re all here to have fun.”

“I just want to talk,” I grit out. “Isla, please.”

She holds my gaze, flattening her lips. Then, she jerks her head no. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. When you’re sober.”

I open my mouth, but when no words come out, I close it. Deflating, I stagger back. The pain in my chest is intense, like my heart has cracked in two. Sweat drips down my back, and my head spins even more violently.

“Let’s get you out of here, Michael.” Sienna’s voice cuts through the ringing in my ears. Suddenly, she’s at my side, slipping my arm over her shoulder. “Come on. Fresh air will help.”

I don’t fight her. Not because I want her help, but because my legs are unsteady, and standing here while Isla looks at me like I’m an inconvenience is tearing me apart.

Ash steps closer, brows furrowed. “Do you want me to go with you?”

Sienna steers me through the crowd without responding, and I let her. If I stay here another second, I’ll fall apart.

The hallway stretches in front of me, blurry and too bright. My vision goes spotty. Nausea hits me in waves. If I don’t stop moving now, I’m going to throw up.

“Stop, please,” I choke out. I brace my hand against the wall, relishing the cold of the cinderblock. “God…I’m gonna be sick.”

Sienna turns to face me, shifting her grip.

Why did I drink that punch? Why the hell did tonight have to go this way? Why does seeing Isla with Turner make me feel like I’m losing the ground beneath me?

Sienna turns me so my back is against the wall. Eyes closed, I hang my head and focus on breathing. Anything to calm myself down.

“What did you want to talk to her about?”

The question tears through the fog in my skull. For a second, I think I imagined it.

“Michael,” Sienna says. “What did you need to talk to Isla about?”

I push myself upright, letting the back of my head thud against the wall. The world still spins.

Sienna stands in front of me with her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised like she’s waiting for some big confession.

“What?”

“Why was it so important?”

I scrub a shaky hand over my face. “Because she doesn’t talk to me anymore. It’s been two weeks since she’s even said hello. And I’m drunk. Isn’t that…isn’t that reason enough to screw up?”

“But why her?” she snaps, stepping closer. “Why is it always her?”