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going, Reagan. He stepped toward me, a warm smile on his face that I couldn’t quite comprehend. Shouldn’t he be judging me, condemning me? “Let me help you find a cab. You’ll probably have more luck talking to Dare later. After he’s had some time to cool off.”
    He walked past me, opened the door, and waited. I followed, the shock of his kindness leaving me speechless. The sympathy of strangers was a funny thing. Why were they all so much nicer to me than my own family? Than Dare?
    Maybe it was me. Maybe to actually know me was to hate me.
    Not that it mattered. At this moment, no one hated me more than I hated myself.

six

    I was going to kill him.
    “Open up, Synner!” I pounded on the bathroom door. It was locked, but I had enough rage in me to rip it from the hinges. “Get out here! NOW!”
    The sound of running water punctuated my roars. He always took his sweet time in the shower after a long night doing god-knows-what with his latest conquest.
    Except this morning that conquest was Ree.
    MY Ree.
    Goddamn it, I was going to rip his fucking head off.
    “SYNNER!”
    “That dude is setting the record for Amsterdam ass.” Hawke, the bass player, jabbed my shoulder as he passed me on the way out of his room. “Did you see that hot blonde he brought home last night? Damn . Too bad he doesn’t like to share booty.”
    Alright then, Hawke was going to die next.
    My fist formed a small crack in the wood. “Open this fucking do—”
    The door swung open and Synner stood in front of me, wide-eyed, soaking wet, and naked.
    “Bloody hell! Who jizzed in your coffee this morning?” He pulled a towel off the rack and wrapped it around his waist. “What the hell is the matter with you?”
    “What the hell is the matter with ME?” I saw red. My chest heaved, my fury spurred on by his blasé attitude. Could he care any less about the girl he’d just fucked? “What the hell is the matter with YOU, asshole? Out of all the women in Amsterdam your STD-ridden dick could’ve harassed last night, you had to pick mine?”
    Synner’s eyebrow shot up. “STD-ridden? Harassed? That hurts.” He put a hand to his ink-covered heart, then looked me right in the eye. “And, for your information, my incredibly talented dick didn’t go anywhere near that girl. She was blackout wasted. I spent the night on the sofa.” He appraised me, realization dawning as he spoke. “It was some wanker who screwed her over, actually. I believe she said he was a tattoo artist.”
    I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to get my anger under control. “Blackout wasted?” Ree had been high. Rejected and high. I’d pushed her away, left her all alone to fend off the darkness in a strange city. Fuck.
    Synner nodded. “And, inexplicably, not interested,” he said. “Look, I don’t need to harass non-consenting pussy. I have enough willing women to keep me busy for all eternity.”
    “He’s telling the truth,” Dash said, and I turned around to see that everyone else had gathered to watch our exchange. Great. “She just slept here. That’s all.” He took a step forward, nodding toward the front door. “We’re out of milk. Time to go to the store—you and me.”
    What he really meant was, Time to chill the fuck out, Dare.
    “Dash, we’ve got—” Indie began, but he cut her off with a stern look. “Fine,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “Whatever. Everyone can just do whatever the hell they want today.” She threw her hands up in the air. “I give up!”
    Synner laughed and said something to her, but I couldn’t make out the words because Dash had grabbed my elbow and was already dragging me out of the apartment.
    “Damn,” I muttered once we’d stepped onto the front porch, wrenching my arm from his tight grasp. “Now I know what it feels like to be a little brother. Painful as fuck.”
    “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you refer to yourself as my little brother.” He studied me, pressing his lips