Page 5 of Noctis

“I know you’re not.” Tyler ran a hand through the lustrous black waves of his hair. The curls fell back into place perfectly, as they always did. Mine never behaved nearly as well. On a good day, my blond curls still gave the impression that someone had dragged me through a hedge backward. When we first met, Tyler had called it my “bed hair.” Now he didn’t call it anything because these days it felt like we spent more time arguing than flirting.

“I don’t worry about you when you’re sober,” he said. “But you’ve been getting drunk or high more and more often since…”

“Don’t say it,” I warned.

He gave a small nod to show that he understood. “Since your… stress has gotten worse. I worry that you’ll do something stupid while you’re under the influence. What did you take last night?”

“None of your fucking business.” I forced myself to take a slow breath, aware that losing my temper would only prove his point. “Some coke. Some ketamine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Tyler didn’t respond, but his expression said plenty.

“Don’t act like you haven’t done both those things yourself.”

“Not for a while.”

I rolled my eyes. “Look at you, all grown up, while I’ve remained the same fucked-up party boy.”

Tyler said nothing.

I released a noisy breath. “Take me home. We can talk about this there.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He jerked his head toward the austere building. “They have counselors here, people you can talk to. And if the drugs really aren’t a problem, then going without them for a few days won’t be a big deal.”

“A few days?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. They’re the experts.”

The vagueness did nothing to reassure me. “I can’t believe you did this. You’re meant to be on my side.”

A pained expression settled on his face. “I am. I’m just—”

“Worried about me,” I finished for him.

Silence settled over the car. It wasn’t an easy silence, but something thick and cloying that made the space feel suddenly too small and left me desperate for fresh air. I glanced over at Tyler. He’d turned back to facing front, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had gone white.

“I suppose,” I admitted, “that I haven’t been the easiest person to live with lately.”

Tyler’s slight shrug said he knew better than to agree with me. “If you can’t do it for yourself, then maybe you can do it for me.”

I knew emotional blackmail when I heard it. Knowing what he was doing didn’t make it any less effective.

I looked at the building again. It belonged in a horror film—one of those houses where someone accepted a dare to spend the night, only to regret it within an hour, when everything went to shit and a malevolent force started pursuing them through the corridors. Then again, perhaps I was just being melodramatic.

“Why here?” I asked with a sideways glance at the ominous-looking forest. “Why not somewhere more central?”

“I figured there’d be less temptation. All the other places I looked at, you could basically walk straight out of the door and score.”

The fact that he’d researched multiple clinics made the whole thing feel less spontaneous and more like an ambush. It was also jarring to realize how little faith Tyler had in my ability to stay sober. How long had it been since I’d last gone a few days without drugs or alcohol? I didn’t much like the answer that came to mind.

Tyler reached into the back of the car and dragged forward a black rucksack. The sight of it made the situation even more real.

“I packed you a bag.” He opened it before I could respond and pulled something out. “I put in that book you’ve been meaning to read for ages but haven’t been able to find the time for. And all your art materials. I bet you’ll have loads of time to draw.”

“And what am I meant to draw?” I asked dryly. “Trees?”

“You’ll find something.”

“Clothes?” I asked.