Page 80 of Darlin'

It's my heart.

And remember, Miss Kingsley, if you reveal my true identity to The Sons, the Bureau will take legal measures against you.

"Hello?" Andy waves her hand in front of my face. "You listening to me?" She groans, pushing past me and pouring two pints of beer as I will myself back into reality. "Seriously, what's up with you these past couple of days?"

Two days have passed. Two. That means I have five left. Five days to save my brother. What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to help him?

She cranes her neck over her shoulder, grinning. "Stumble upon some of JP's Xanax, maybe?"

"Sorry," I mutter, looking at the drink tickets stacked on the counter. "I got these."

Andy places the beer on a tray, casting me a frown. "Do you, though? You look like you're going to pass out." She nods in the direction of where Pippa and Marlow are sitting. "Maybe you should ask Marlow to cover you tonight."

"No, it's fine," I say, mixing a rum and Coke. Or is whiskey and ginger? My temples pulse. "Shoot. Do we have ibuprofen or something? My head's killing me right now."

Andy sighs, pulling a travel-sized pill bottle from her apron. She hands it to me. "Here."

"Thanks," I say, popping open the lid and swallowing two blue pills. "You get headaches too?"

She shrugs. "Sometimes."

"Well, thanks," I say again, releasing a labored breath. "I appreciate it."

Andy scans my face with a strained gaze, jaw clenching before she asks, "You okay? Did something happen?"

"No, nothing." I swallow, Miguel's business card burning a hole in my jeans pocket. "Just umm...some family stuff."

Andy lifts a brow. "Family stuff? You worried about your brother? He's fine, Savannah. They'll be back in no time."

"I know that," I mumble, chest heavy and pained. "It's something else."

"Okay, what?" Andy crosses her arms, frustrated at my lack of disclosure. She clicks her tongue. "Listen, Blondie, we've got five hours left before closing, and it's going to get busy soon, so whatever little family drama you're going through is going to have to wait. So either you suck it up, or you talk to me about it. I'd personally prefer to work with Prozac Blondie than Zombie Blondie tonight, okay?"

"I—" How do I explain the situation without explaining the situation? "Well, the thing is..."

"Yeah?" Andy blinks at me. "Go on..."

Grunting, I divulge half-truths and analogies like I'm a dang English major. "I have this friend?—"

"A friend?"

"Yes, a friend," I double down, chewing my lip. "She's from back home. She's uh—she's a bit in trouble."

"Your friend is in trouble?"

"Stop repeating everything I'm saying," I grunt, rolling my eyes. "You see, she uh—she recently made some new friends, and she really likes these friends. And I do too. They're good people, and she—" My gut churns. "But she's getting into a bit of trouble these days with them."

"Trouble?"

"Yes, trouble," I lie, not knowing where I'm going with this at all. "She's changed a lot, and I feel like she's going down a dark path."

"Okay..." Andy swallows, suddenly paying closer attention as her face falls. "And?"

"Well, I know that I can help her," I say, twiddling with my apron. "Ishouldhelp her because she's a dear friend, almost like a sister, and I love her very much, but..." I bite my lip. "But if I help her, I could end up hurtingherfriends, whosheloves very much, and I—" My head spins. "And I've started to love them too. I—" I look at Andy, gaze weak and fading. "I don't know what to do."

"It's easy," Andy says, tone wavering and vulnerable. "If this girl is a sister to you, then you pick her." Andy shrugs. "Family over everything, Savannah." She motions around the bar. "Family's not always blood either. Sometimes we pick our family. If you think you can help your friend, your sister, then do it."

"But what about?—"

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