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She’s right. The party is moving to somewhere more private—like every other time we’ve been in situations like this.

“Taking him?You act like he doesn’t want to be alone with three models. He’s a big boy, Callie. He can handle himself.”

I bury painful images of the countless times I’ve watched this scene play out. The only difference is, I’m not being dragged into it this time.

Except I am. In the worst way possible.

Once again, I’m watching my life derailed by his bad choices.

You’re not being fair.

No. None of this is fucking fair.

I snag another bottle of champagne from the bar without even waiting for the bartender this time. She needs a new distraction, because the one she’s chosen is only going to chew her up and spit her out.

“Here, have another drink,” I offer before she does something she can’t undo.

Dread seeps through me at her determined expression. Even worse, she now seems mad atme.

She shakes her head with a glare. “No, this isn’t like him. Something’s wrong!”

I bark a bitter laugh at the irony.

“This is exactly like him. That’s what I tried to tell you at breakfast. You don’t actually know him. The guy you know is very different than the real Luke Craven.”

My words come out harsher than I intended, but I didn’t expect all the old trauma to come rushing back.

The time his reckless behavior got us jumped in an alley.

The time I woke up in some random person’s hotel room with no memory of the night before.

The time over and over and over again I paid the price for his choices.

All the times I picked up his broken pieces while the gravel and mud swallowed up my own.

But this is our damage, not hers.

“Look, you’re a very sweet girl,” I say as gently as possible. The demons are shrieking around me. I ignore them. “I totally understand why Luke wants you in his life, and I’m sure you’re really good for him, but he’s not good for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snaps back.

Maybe I’m losing patience as well. I don’t even understand why we’re fighting about this. What does she know about him other than what he orders off a damn breakfast menu?

“Luke is a force,” I say as evenly as possible. “He’s my brother and I love him, but you’re lying to yourself if you think you’re going to fix him before he destroys you.”

Her startled look morphs into resentment. “You really think so little of yourbrother?”

Her words cut deep. She has no idea how precisely she drove the knife into my heart, but what does it matter anymore? This is pointless. This argument, this uphill battle to escape Luke’s shadow, this entire attempt to come back and save him from himself.

If she wants to push the boulder up the mountain for a while, fine.

“Whatever. Good luck with that.” I grip the bottle and take off toward the other side of the room. I have nowhere to go, but I can’t be here anymore.

Guilt creeps in the further I get from the bar. I see her take off toward the hall leading to the bedrooms. Maybe I should be concerned. And maybe part of me is even relieved that someone is going to intervene in his mess. The part of my soul that will always love him hates what I just did. It still worries about him. Still thinks about what could be happening in that back bedroom. So yeah,thatpart of me is glad someone is willing to take on his demons.

Because Luke still needs help, and right now that person can’t be me.

I’m too tired. Too angry. Too hurt to be anything but an enemy and an obstacle. If Callie wants to tag in, she’s more than welcome.