Page 6 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

Oops.

His hand slides around my waist, keeping me from face-planting on the concrete when a low voice barks, “Blake!”

I flinch and turn toward the familiar voice, but the backyard continues spinning.

Aaaand it’s official. I’ve had too much to drink.

A pair of hands wrenches me away from Burrows, and before I can even register what’s happening, I’m plastered against a solid chest. It’s warmer than Burrows’. More familiar, though I’d never admit it out loud. It takes everything inside of me to stop myself from snuggling against it, but I keep my spine straight and my muscles from melting into Theo’s grasp.

“What the hell are you doing, man?” he growls, the sound vibrating from his chest and against my palms firmly planted on his pecs.

“Calm down,” Burrows replies. “We’re just playing a game.”

“This is Colt’s little sister!”

“Yeah. I know.” Burrows’ tone is calm and level-headed, unlike the man who’s holding me hostage. “He saw us playing and was fine with it.”

“Did he know you were gonna get her wasted too?”

“I wasn’t––”

Smacking Theo’s chest, I wiggle out of his arms and nearly fall on my ass. His grip tightens around my bicep, keeping me upright, though I refuse to thank him for it.

“He wasn’t doing anything, you big neanderthal,” I argue. “We were just playing––”

“Yeah, well, you’re done.”

“Who do you think you are?” I demand. Or at least, it’s what I’m trying to demand. My tongue isn’t exactly working at top speed. Nope. Instead, my speech is slurred, and I’m pretty sure I sound like an idiot. But it isn’t my fault. It’s Theo’s. He shouldn’t have pissed me off as soon as I walked up to his house. He also shouldn’t be smelling this good. What is it? Cologne? Or is it his own natural scent? If it is, it isn’t fair. That’s for sure.

“Look. I’ve already had enough shit go down for one night,” Theo growls, though I have no idea what he’s talking about. He glares down at me, shaking his head. “I don’t need to deal with you too.”

“Then don’t,” I argue. “I’m fine.”

Without bothering to tear his gaze from mine, Theo yells, “Everyone! Out!”

I flinch at the sharpness in his tone. He isn’t usually an angry guy. Most of the time, he’s laid back and––dare I say it––almost jovial. Like Santa Claus. Except sexier and without the massive belly.

Well. Unless I’m around. Then, he’s the Grinch with a side of Jack the Ripper. And with the way he’s looking at me right now? I might as well dig my own grave next to the massive trees in the backyard, ‘cause I’m not walking out of here tonight.

“Now!” Theo snaps.

Welp. Apparently, the party’s over.

2

BLAKELY

A collective groan rolls through the backyard as people start heading inside and toward the front door, repeating Theo’s order to those who hadn’t heard him yet. I’m surprised no one protests though.

Nope. Just me.

Smacking at Theo’s chest––again––I spit, “Who said you get to end the party? They were having fun. I was having fun!”

“Yeah, I can see,” he grumbles. “Can you walk, or do I need to carry you?”

I blink slowly as I register his question. My mind feels like it’s stuck in quicksand, making every thought, every decision feel like it’s happening in slow-motion. Like I can’t catch up. Like I’m always a beat or two behind.

Impatient, Theo bends down, grabs the back of my thighs, and hauls me over his shoulder like I’m a sack of potatoes. It isn’t sweet or romantic. It’s tainted with annoyance. Obligation. Like he’d rather be anywhere else than holding me against him. And it pisses me off.

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