Page 102 of Love Me Dangerous

“Okay.” He hangs up.

Frantic, I tug on a hoodie and a pair of leggings, then thick socks. When I bolt from my room, Dad is in the hallway. So is Linnie.

We stare at each other. “I’m going too.” Linnie nostrils flare, like she’s daring me to object.

“We’ll all go,” Dad says.

We silently hurry out the door into the night so cold it bites my cheeks. The aspens give a softcrishhhhhhin the brisk wind as we race for Dad’s truck.

Fear and anticipation coil in my gut like some sort of prickly reptile trying to burrow free. I watch the dark landscape pass in a blur while I flex and relax my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

If Jesse’s using again…

If he’s drawn Neve into the underworld, too…

“We’re in this together.” Dad sends me a quick glance from where he’s hunched over the wheel.

I swallow the hard knot in my throat.

From the backseat, Linnea is quiet. After high school, when Jesse spiraled, I did my best to shelter our little sister, but addiction is a hard thing to hide.

What’s going through her head right now? And if things are as bad as they seem, how will I take care of herandJesse?

Dad cruises into the hospital lot and parks the truck. We all jump out. Linnie slides her hand into mine as we make our way across the pale concrete. Maybe I have this all wrong, and she’s the one taking care of me.

The glass doors whoosh open, the bright lights inside disorienting and harsh. I’ve been here before, and my feet know where to go. I walk to the gray-haired man behind a white counter with a giant name tag that says EARL.

“I’m looking for Neve Mayfair. My brother Jesse Whittaker brought her in.”

Earl slides his black bifocals to his nose and scans a computer screen. “Room three ten.”

“Thanks.” I hurry to the elevator, flanked by Lin and Dad. The elevator music is playing instrumental Christmas tunes, another signal that we’re in an alternate reality because Halloween was practically yesterday.

Silently, we step from the elevator and follow the signs to the Behavioral Health floor. A man in scrubs behind the nurse’s station looks up as we enter, but down the hall, leaning against the wall like it’s the only thing keeping him upright, is my brother.

His wavy brown hair is wild like he’s been pulling at it, his oversized hoodie draped on his skinny frame, his hands shoved into the pockets of his baggy black jeans. When he sees us, his eyes fill withanguish. He inhales a ragged breath. I cross the distance and grab him in a tight hug.

He grips me and sucks in a sob.

“They saved her.”

I sigh into his chest. I get the meaning behind these simple words—that when he brought her in, she was dead, or close to it.

“Thank God.” It’s hard to let him go but I do.

Linnie dives in, wrapping her gangly arms around him and squeezing her eyes shut, like the effort is taking all of her concentration.

“Her parents are coming,” Jesse says when they part.

Dad jerks his chin toward the door. “Is there anything we can do for her?”

“The first twenty-four hours are the hardest,” Jesse says, swallowing hard.

Shit, this is bad. I release a shaky breath. “Does she want to quit?”

“After this, she won’t have a choice,” Jesse says, his tired eyes flicking in Linnie’s direction. His protectiveness of her taps my heartstrings.

Down the hall is a vending machine and some chairs clustered around a plastic table. I want to know how Jesse is mixed up in this—how deep—but I’m protective of Linnie, too.

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