“You look like you’re having a nice dream,” someone whispered.

I kept my eyes closed and counted backward from ten.

Then I gazed up at Seth.

“Who needs nice dreams?” I said. “I have nice things in my life.”

“Lucky you.”

We stared at one another, openly assessing. God, Seth didn’t look good. He wore his dark hair in a ponytail, which accentuated the sharp angles of his face. He’d lost weight. Quite a bit of weight. Bruise-blue shadows filled the hollows of his features. I recognized the glassy gleam in his eyes. He was high or drunk, or both.

My gaze raked down to his boots. His clothes—a plain gray T-shirt and jeans—were clean but loose on his lean frame.

“I want to talk to you,” I said. “Not here.”

Seth shrugged and moved toward the exit, his rangy body slipping through the crowd.

I found Chrissy sharing a booth with a dancer. At least, the girl looked like one of the dancers. Three sweating glasses stood between them.

“You’re drinking.” I frowned at my sister.

“Yeah. One Long Island.”

“Hi!” said the friend. I ignored her.

“One is one too many if you’re going to—” I pursed my lips, but I wanted to scream: If you’re going to have that baby. “If you’re going to drive, Chrissy.” I laid ridiculous emphasis on the word “drive.” “Even one drink could impair things.”

“I think a little bit is okay.”

The stupid friend chimed in: “Driving? Didn’t Seth drive you here?”

“Shut up.” I glared at the friend.

“What the hell?” said Chrissy. “If you’re going to be a bitch, I don’t want to talk to you. I’m actually having a good night. Don’t come around with your boyfriend’s shitty attitude.”

Heat rushed to my head.

I vividly imagined throwing my sister’s drink in her face, and I stormed out before it came to that. In the alleyway, I gulped down summer air. A twist of smoke burned my throat. I coughed and glared at the offending smoker.

Seth Fucking Sky, of course.

“Rough night?” He raised a brow.

“Like you care.” I turned away. It hurt to look at him—to see him hurting. I had played a part in his pain, hooking up with him so carelessly, and that memory was too fresh.

“I do care, Hannah.”

I hugged myself. “You look really bad.”

“Hey, thanks.”

“You know you do. Why can’t you just take care of yourself?” I glared over my shoulder, my eyes burning.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“It is hard to watch, okay? I know you and Matt don’t get along, but you’re the same. Self-destructive and stupidly stubborn. And—” My throat clenched; my voice shook. I can never speak when I get too angry or sad.

What I really wanted to do was apologize for helping Seth hurt himself by hooking up with him when my heart belonged to Matt, but I couldn’t make the words come out.

“I would have let you take care of me,” he said. Easy for him to say; he was halfway fucked-up. He leaned against the wall and sucked on his cigarette. He watched me, his dark eyes slanted down, and then gestured toward the club. “I doubt that little thing can do the job.”

That little thing—my sister.

“She needs taking care of,” I said, “not the other way around.”

“I’m gonna try.”

“Is that why she’s in there drinking? God, I want to hate you. I do. I hate you for fucking up her life like this.”

“She was well on her way to fucking it up when I came along.” Seth exhaled away from me. “If not with me, with Wiley, with some other guy. Girl is wild. And Hannah—” He reached for me, the sarcasm draining from his tone. “She came on to me … I didn’t—”

“I don’t want to know.” I sidestepped his hand.

“I want you to know. She did. You left, she came into the room—”

“No.” I covered my ears. When he stopped speaking, I lowered my hands.

How long had I been here? I felt for my phone and remembered I’d left it in the car.

A group of people filed into the club.

“We had fun that night,” Seth said. “I mean after the memorial, driving out to that bar. Making our escape.” He laughed. “It was winter, right? Fucking cold. I really thought he was dead.” Sadness, not bitterness, underpinned Seth’s voice. “It’s hard to forgive him.”

I fished the crumpled check out of my pocket and offered it to Seth.

“He wants to help her.”

“I heard otherwise.” Seth unfolded the check and frowned at it.

“He was angry. He came around.”

“Kid’s got a temper on him. I should know.” After a brief hesitation, he pocketed the check. “I’ll see she gets it. We’re doing some … fancy paternity test. DNA stuff. It’s a safe one. We’ll put the money toward that, and anything else she—”

“What the hell are you two doing out here?” Chrissy swayed in the club’s doorway. Instinctively, I moved away from Seth.

“Trying to figure out ways to help you,” I said.

“Yeah, right.” Her eyes flickered to Seth. “Give me a cigarette.”

“Chris, she’s trying to help. Matt wrote you a check—”