“She’s so far in her own head, I don’t think she realizes we can see past it all,” I say, turning back to him. I know I have no claim to her, but at the same time, just the thought of her pert ass sitting on Hunter’s lap has me grinding my teeth.
“She’s still dealing. I get it. We’ve all been there, been watching you do it for the last few years,” he says, taking a pull of beer.
I ignore his dig at me, but agree with him about her. Thinking back to the first time I met her, walking into the shop drunk and throwing her attitude around. She might think she has everyone fooled, but I know she’s not the same person.
“Two different things, but I’ll give you that,” I tell him, not prepared to get into sharing.
“Might be, but her way of coping is no different than what you do," he says, telling me what I already know. I do know, fuck. I live with that shit every day, but seeing her live through the shit she’s hiding is getting old. Fast.
“Sy, can you help me with her? She’s completely off her face,” Kelly asks, looking over at Holly as she throws back another shot.
“Yep,” I say, ready to end this shit now.
“Sunshine,” Holly cheers from Hunter’s lap, jumping up and down as I stalk toward her. I ignore her name for me, pissed she would use it now, and even more pissed it stirs something in me.
“Keep those fucking hands to yourself, asshole,” I tell the runt. My tone leaves no room for argument, but for extra measure, I level my stare at him. He nods, swallowing obviously and keeping his hands up.
“She just sat down,” Hunter says in his defense, but I don’t give a fuck.
“Sy, why have you got to be so cranky all the time?” she asks, looking up at me. Her glassy eyes shine with a playfulness I haven’t seen in a long time.
“Come on. Let’s go.” Taking one of her wrists in my hand, I pull her off him.
“Ooh, where are we going?” she asks, leaning into me. “Are you going to take me back to your room?” she whispers into my ear, her warm voice spreads through me. I try not to let it affect me. She’s so far gone; she would never act like this sober. Instead, I march her ass inside, away from all the fucks looking at her like they want a piece.
“Sy, take me to your room,” she tries again, this time pulling out of my hold.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, taking her arm back and pulling her into the kitchen.
“What do you mean? I’m having a drink, having fun. Seeing as though I’m at a party and all,” she laughs her fake-ass laugh.
“How much have you had to drink?” I ask, wondering how much Hunter has been serving her.
“I don’t know, but you’re still annoying me, so I need more.”
“Holly.”
“What? You are,” she says and if I weren't pissed that she was just rubbing her ass up along one of my brothers, I would be excited her attitude has returned.
“Are you meant to be drinking with your pills?”
“How do you know about my pills?” she snaps, my question almost giving away that I’ve kept tabs on her.
“Answer the question, Holly.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Sy.” She spins to leave, but I hook my arm around her waist and pull her back to me.
“Oh, I know, but what you want and what you’re going to get are two different things,” I tell her, picking her up and planting her ass on the counter. She doesn’t fight it; instead, she pushes herself back and rests her head on the wall, pouting.
“Are you listening to me, Holly?” I ask and wait for her to answer.
“’I’m so tired, Sy,” she says, barely above a whisper, and for a moment I don’t know if she means tonight or in general. Then she looks at me, her eyes so fucking lost I don’t even know how to help her find her way.
“I know, girl. Fuck, you work so hard; no wonder you’re exhausted.” I wait for her to respond, but what is there to say really. Moving away, I get a cup ready to sober her up.
“Do you take sugar?” I ask, coming back to her. “Holly?” I touch her when she doesn’t respond, but she’s already asleep. Her head falls to the side and her eyes are closed. Taking her in my arms, I walk her through the clubhouse to my room. There’s no way I’m leaving her out here alone. Wrestling with the handle, I manage to open the door and get through without dropping her dead weight.
“Sy?” she mumbles from my arms.
“Shhh,” I soothe her, not up for an argument.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she mumbles, forcing me to detour to the bathroom.
“Hold on,” I say, flicking on the switch.
“I’m going to be—” She doesn’t get to finish before vomit covers the front of both me and her dress.
“Oh, God,” she moans, bringing her hands up to cover her face.
“Shit, Holly,” I curse, placing her on her feet in front of the toilet.
“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes, leaning over into the toilet bowl before throwing up again. “Oh. My. God,” she repeats again as her body wracks with silent heaving while I get her a glass of water. Looking down the front of me, I quickly remove my fucked-up cut and shirt.
“Sy,” she moans, “I don’t feel too good.” She shakes her head in the bowl.
“Get it all out. You’ll feel better tomorrow,” I tell her, cleaning myself off. I watch her for another ten minutes until she starts to fall asleep.