“Party’s over!” Everett shouts, making a slicing motion with his hand across his throat. The guy spinning tunes cuts the music, and a couple of guys start herding people out.
Without stopping to think about it, I rush to the kitchen, opening cupboard doors until I find what I need. I race back to the living room, thrusting the bowl under Roman’s face just as another wave of vomit ejects from his mouth. “Here.” I hand a wad of paper towels to Zayn and some to his blonde fuck buddy.
“You think that’ll rescue my dress!” the ungrateful shrew screams, glaring at me like it’s my fault. “This is fucking Chanel, and now it’s ruined!” Ignoring me, she tugs on Zayn’s arm, but he’s paying her no attention. Concern is etched upon his face as he watches his brother throw up into the bowl. “Did you hear me? You owe me a new dress.”
“Do I look like I fucking care?” Zayn snarls, pinning her with a venomous look. “Fuck off, Val. The party’s over.”
Raising her balled fists, she moves to thump him, thinking better of it when she spies the puke spatters on his shirt. “Fucking loser,” she hisses before stomping off.
“Wow. You sure know how to pick ’em.” Everett lets Zayn go, attempting to lighten the mood as the last stragglers leave his apartment.
Looking around, I notice the guy I was kissing is gone.
“Why the fuck are you still here?” Zayn barks at Jarvis.
“I’m not leaving without my boyfriend.” Jarvis tentatively prods his nose while glaring at Zayn.
Zayn stalks toward Jarvis, followed by Everett. Crouching down, I offer some paper towels to Roman. He’s dry heaving now, and I’m sure he feels like crap. The only time I got drunk at a party, I vomited the entire contents of my stomach in the early hours of the morning and spent a good portion continuously dry heaving. It’s the main reason I don’t overdo it now. I have zero desire to repeat the experience.
“Get. Out. Now.” Zayn shoves Jarvis’s shoulders. “Or you’ll be leaving in a body bag.”
“We can always call the NYPD.” Everett stands beside Zayn, presenting a united front. “Tell them you’re the one who supplied whatever shit he took.”
“Pricks,” Jarvis hisses before walking off, not even bothering to look at Roman before he leaves.
“You.” Roman clutches the wall as he staggers to his feet. Beads of sweat dot his brow, and dark bruising shadows under his eyes suggest the guy has trouble sleeping. Swaying unsteadily, he looks like he’s going to keel over again. “It’s you. You’re her.” He points at me with a shaky finger, and I frown.
“What do you mean?” I ask, wondering if we’ve met some place before. It seems unlikely, because he’s a good-looking guy, like his brother, and I doubt I’d forget him.
“You need to leave.” Zayn stands in front of his brother, blocking his view.
“Don’t worry, asshole.” Uma takes my hand, and I’d almost forgotten she was there. “We’re going.”
Chapter Four
Zayn
“This has to stop, Roman.” I look at my brother, lying on his side in his bed, with an invisible weight pressing down on my chest. “I don’t know how to help you, and if you keep pressing the self-destruct button, you’re going to end up dead.” I force words out over the painful lump in my throat. “I can’t lose you too.”
“It hurts, Zayn,” he chokes out, tears clinging to his lashes. “It hurts so much. All the time.” Burying his head in his pillow, he attempts to stifle his cries.
I wrap my arms around him. “Tell me what I can do. Tell me how I can fix this.”
“Bring Mom and Dad and Pen back,” he sobs, turning around and clinging to me.
I hug my brother with pain smacking me from all sides. “I wish I could.” Things have been tough since we lost our adoptive parents and our sister four years ago. Losing the only family we’ve ever known was difficult enough to cope with. Then we learned our parents were in debt up to their eyeballs, and we were left with nothing after the house was sold to clear the money they owed.
Or so we were led to believe.
When we ended up at the Wakefield group home, I was less than pleased, but at least we had a roof over our heads and we weren’t separated. The home wasn’t that bad of a place, but the two years we spent there were hell because of that bitch Lindsay. The day Denton Mathers rescued us was one of the best days of my life. I’d have agreed to anything to get my little brother away from that sick bitch.
I hold Roman as he cries, and my despair soon turns to silent rage. None of this would’ve happened if our asshole bio dad and our brothers hadn’t tossed us out like trash when we were babies. This is all their fault.
Roman pulls away from me, sitting up with his back against the headboard. I mirror his position while he wipes his eyes and his nose with the bed sheet.
“I’m sorry I’m failing you,” I admit. “I thought getting you out of Wakefield and living here by ourselves would help. That having money again and getting to return to our old school would mean life settled down, but I see it’s not enough.” Truth is, it’s lonely living here by ourselves. I certainly feel it, and I’m not as sensitive as my brother.
“We could try to find our real parents.” Roman eyeballs me with a strange look.
