His outrage brings out a reluctant smile. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly not.”

My moment of levity doesn’t last long. Dylan’s in a house with a monster and I’ve been bumbling around worrying about school and my reputation and all that stupid stuff when I should’ve been concentrating on her. “My sister hates me. She’s been so mean to me since I got back from the hospital and tonight I tried to comfort her but she refused to let me into her bedroom. She must be so mad that I left her alone to be tormented by Dad.”

“You didn’t leave her. You were fourteen when you were sent away, which is almost the same age as Dylan is now. Do you expect her to fight your dad? No. You came back to save her.”

“I’m doing a shitty job of it.”

“Your dad’s a lawyer. I don’t think you can just run off with your sister. And from the sounds of it, you’d have to kidnap her since she is being kind of a turd at home.”

A turd. I stifle a giggle. I’m tired, drained, and hysterical, so anything sounds funny.

“I love that sound,” Easton says, a broad smile on his face.

“What sound?”

“Your laugh. It’s the best sound in the world.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m pretty sure there are way better sounds. Like…um…” I struggle to find an example.

Easton pounces. “Ha! See! Even you agree—Hartley Wright’s laughter. Best sound ever.”

This just makes me laugh again, which makes his smile widen even more, and then we’re both sitting there smiling like idiots, with an occasional giggle flying out of my mouth. I can’t believe the power he has. Like, five minutes ago, I was bawling my eyes out, devastated. I’m still devastated. And somehow Easton has this magical ability to make me smile even when I’m at my darkest point.

That both thrills and scares me.

“I need to go,” I say awkwardly, because our smiling fest suddenly feels too…I don’t know. Too something.

His arm shoots out and he grabs my hand.

“Stay,” he says

I swallow, hesitant.

“For a little bit longer,” he adds.

His husky voice and another sweet smile are all the encouragement I need. I let my eyes drift close, using East as my pillow, personal heater, and exclusive source of comfort. I’ll rest my eyes…just for a minute. Then I’ll go home.

*

I wake up to someone rapping that he’s here for his music, real for his music. I sit up and look around to see who’s talking, but there’s no one here but me sprawled out on East’s chest. His head is lying on the balled-up Astor Park jacket.

Beside him, the screen of his phone is lit up. I shake his shoulder.

“I’m up,” he mumbles.

I smile a little at his obvious lie and shake him harder. This time he rolls over and shoots me a sleepy smile.

“Hey, babe. You have a sexy dream and want to work out some of the details in real life?”

He’s so gorgeous just waking up that I wish I could take him up on the offer. “Your phone is ringing.”

He groans and throws an arm across his face. “What time is it?”

“Three.” I get up and look around for my shoes. I need to get home. I want to check on Dylan. My movements are sluggish, probably because of dehydration. I cried out my entire water supply.

“In the afternoon?”

His phone stops ringing. I locate my sneakers by the door. “In the morning.” I look at his jacket with longing. I don’t want to leave it, but it’s his. I can’t keep stealing his clothes.

“In the morning?” He groans in disbelief. The phone starts ringing again.

Trepidation creeps over me. “I think you should answer it. No one calls this late unless it’s an emergency.”

He doesn’t answer right away and it occurs to me that maybe Easton does entertain random calls in the middle of the night from Astor Park girls. Jealousy prompts me to bend over and swipe the jacket off the floor. He gave it to me, I tell myself.

“Hello?” East finally answers. He listens for about two seconds before shooting straight into the air. “You better not be fucking with me,” he half shouts, but he’s not angry. A smile is spreading across his gorgeous face. “I’ll be there.” His hand drops to his side and he turns to me with a blindingly wide grin. “He woke up.”

“Who? Sebastian?”

“Yes.” East nods eagerly. “He woke up!”

“Ahhhhh!” I scream, jumping up and down. Finally, some good news.

Easton does his own little dance, and then we grab each other and hop around the room like fools until there’s a banging on the floor. “Shut the fuck up or I’ll kick you out,” screams our landlord.

We immediately stop and stare at each other in excitement and wonder.

“He’s awake,” I whisper, as if by speaking louder I’ll send Easton’s brother back into an enchanted sleep.

“Damn straight he’s awake.” He looks around. “I need to get dressed.”

“Do you need a ride?” I ask. I don’t remember seeing a car outside.

“No. Durand is coming to pick me up.”

I have no clue who that is. I grab East’s shoes and set them by his feet “Do you have socks?”