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“Sierra, please. Let’s go home. Just talk to him. I know there’s an explanation.”

I shake my head, emptying my glass in one go. The burn feels good. It numbs something.

“There’s nothing to explain.”

Thalia exhales, frustrated but still gentle. “You don’t know that for sure…”

I ignore her. My mind’s too loud. My chest too hollow. I turn back toward the bar, needing another drink—anything to keep from breaking again.

That’s when I see Colt. He’s ordering a drink like he owns the place, and maybe he does. For a moment, he doesn’t notice us, but then he turns, does a double take, and walks over.

“Well, this is unexpected,” he says, a bit amused. “Didn’t think I’d see you two here tonight.”

I give him a tired smile—one that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Let’s just say… I needed a distraction.”

Thalia stays quiet, watching me carefully, like she’s afraid I’ll shatter again right there.

“You okay?” Colt asks, eyes narrowing slightly.

“I will be,” I say. The words sharp, bitter, coated in something darker than sadness.

He hesitates. “Something wrong with Nick?”

I shrug. It feels robotic. Empty. “Something like that.”

The three of us talk for the rest of the night. Or at least I think we do. I can’t even remember half the conversation.

My head feels fuzzy, my limbs heavy. My emotions are on delay, like my body’s trying to protect me from feeling too much at once.

When the music finally dies down and the club starts to empty, Colt offers to help me to the car. Thalia carries my purse, where my phone has been turned off since the moment we left the apartment.

In the car, I sit in the front seat, trying to not throw up. The world spins. My throat burns.

Thalia climbs into the back, worried, hovering.

“Please don’t tell Nick anything,” I whisper to her. “Don’t answer if he calls. I need time. I need to figure this out on my own.”

She sighs, torn, but eventually nods. “Fine. But only because I know you’d do the same for me.”

We drop her off first—her apartment is five minutes from the club. She asks one last time if I want her to stay with me, but I shake my head. “I need to be alone. Please.”

She agrees hesitantly and steps out, glancing back through the window with worry clouding her eyes.

But after only a minute, I’m groaning, my stomach twisting violently. “Colt, pull over. Now.”

“We’re a minute from my place. There are paparazzi behind us. Please wait, Sierra,” he says quickly, pressing the gas pedal. I grip the door handle with white knuckles.

Colt parks in a private garage, and helps me out of the car. I crouch near a drain, arms wrapped around my stomach, and he kneels beside me, holding my hair back without hesitation.

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “Just let it out.”

And I do. Every drop of poison, every ounce of grief.

After a few minutes, I lean against the wall, completely drained, trembling from the inside out.

“I’m not letting you go home like this,” he says. “Either I call Thalia back, or you stay at my place. Guest room. Door locked, if it makes you feel better.”

Panic flares in me. “No. I…”