Mr. Americana and The Heartbreak Princess

5

The music was pounding, vibrating through the walls as bodies pressed together in the heat of the house. Juliette leaned against the kitchen counter, her head tilted back as laughter spilled from her lips. She didn't know what was so funny, didn't care, really. The alcohol buzzed warmly through her, dulling the sharp edges of her thoughts. It was easier this way-to just exist for a moment, disconnected from everything that usually weighed her down.

Her fingers brushed the rim of her drink, still half-full, the condensation leaving a damp ring on the counter. A voice called her name from somewhere nearby, but it sounded far away, like it was underwater. She turned her head too fast, and the room tilted, the lights above blurring into streaks.

Juliette blinked, shaking her head. She hadn't drunk that much-at least, she didn't think she had. Her vision swam, and her legs felt heavier than they should as she pushed off the counter, weaving her way toward the patio door. The cool night air hit her like a wave, but instead of steadying her, it made her knees buckle. She caught the railing with one hand, her other gripping her stomach.

Her head felt wrong, disconnected from her body. Panic clawed at her chest, but she tried to push it down. She wasn't weak. She didn't need help. She just needed to breathe.

"Juliette."

She turned her head slowly, the voice slicing through the haze. Rafe Cameron was standing in the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the house behind him. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by something sharper, more focused. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he took her in.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked, his tone edged with irritation, though there was something else beneath it.

"I'm fine," she slurred, her grip tightening on the railing as her legs wobbled.

"Yeah, no, you're not." He closed the distance between them in two strides, his hand gripping her arm to steady her. "How much did you drink?"

"Not... much," she mumbled, her voice trailing off. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and for a second, she thought she might black out.

"Fuck," Rafe muttered under his breath. His grip on her arm tightened, his jaw clenching as he scanned the patio. "Who the hell gave you a drink?"

Juliette's lips moved, but no sound came out. Her body slumped against him, and he caught her before she could fall, one arm slipping around her waist to hold her upright.

"Come on," he said, his voice low and tense. "We're leaving."

The house felt like a maze as Rafe pushed his way through the crowd, his arm still around Juliette to keep her steady. She stirred against him, her head tilting up slightly as her lips parted.

"Rafe," she murmured, her voice faint and slurred.

"Save it," he snapped, his eyes scanning the kitchen as they passed. He spotted her glass still sitting on the counter and grabbed it with his free hand, sniffing it before tossing it aside with a curse. "Fucking idiots," he muttered, his tone dark.

Juliette mumbled something he couldn't hear, her weight pressing more heavily against him as they reached the front door.

"Stay with me," he said, his voice quieter now, though the tension hadn't left it.

Her lashes fluttered, her lips curving into a faint smile. "You're not so bad," she murmured.

"Yeah, tell me that when you're sober," he muttered, adjusting his grip on her as he carried her to his truck.

The ride back to Tannyhill was silent except for the hum of the engine. Juliette leaned her head against the window, her eyes half-closed as the streetlights blurred past. Rafe kept glancing at her, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. She looked so damn fragile like this, and it pissed him off more than he wanted to admit.