Back inside, the air hit Maggie like a wall — smoke machine haze, stale beer, disco ball lights bouncing off mirrored walls. The pianists were already hammering out the opening chords of “Livin’ on a Prayer,” and the crowd lost its collective mind.
“Maggie!” Pete bellowed, waving her forward like a deranged choir director.
Someone shoved a microphone into Maggie’s hand before she could protest. The others surged to the front — Peteclutching Danica’s waist as if they were storming a barricade, Izzy practically glowing as she dragged Kiera beside her, Lillian smirking from the sidelines like she’d known this circus would happen all along, and Gwen joining her to stand nearby without a mic.
Maggie leaned in with the others, shouting the lyrics, pointing to the crowd when the chorus rang of being halfway there.
But inside, she was unraveling.
Her chest still buzzed from Gwen’s hands on her, from the taste of her mouth, from the look in her eyes when she’d saidAre you sure?And then the way she’d stepped back, instantly composed the moment Kiera appeared.
What had made her think that was a good idea? What had made her want that taste, knowing it’d become a craving?
Pete thrust her arm around Maggie’s shoulder mid-chorus, sloshing beer down both their backs, and Maggie whooped like she was having the time of her life.
On the outside, the room was roaring. On the inside, her heart was splintering, every lyric cutting like a cruel joke.
The last chorus shook the walls — every drunk tourist, every bachelorette party, every one of her friends screaming until the pianists banged out the final chords and threw their hands in the air like preachers finishing a sermon.
The crowd went wild.
Pete collapsed against Danica’s shoulder, shrieking with laughter. Izzy pulled Kiera into a kiss that earned a whoop from three tables over. Even Lillian clapped with a faint smile, the picture of composure in a room of chaos.
Maggie bent over her mic stand, hair sticking to her forehead, lungs burning. Her grin was wide, practiced, perfect. Nobody would guess her hands were still trembling.
She shoved the mic back at the pianist, forcing her voice into something bright. “Another round,” she hollered, waving at the waitress. “Shots! Rainbow if you’ve got ’em.”
The table erupted again, everyone cheering like Maggie had just won them the jackpot.
She turned back, smiling with them, laughing too loud. And if her chest still ached, if her mascara was smudged, if her heart felt raw and stupid in her rib cage… well. Shots would fix it. Or at least blur the edges.
CHAPTER 14
Gwen
The suite feltcavernous without the whole crew crammed inside it. Gwen slipped her shoes off the moment the door closed, sighing as her shoulders dropped. She could still hear the ghost of the piano chords in her ears, the crowd roaring along to Bon Jovi like it was scripture.
Maggie, Pete, Danica, and Izzy had peeled off at Fremont, lured toward the flashing lights of the blackjack tables. Gwen, Kiera, and Lillian had shared a cab back, their laughter quieter, a little worn out at the edges.
Now the three of them sat scattered around the living room that wasn’t currently moonlighting as Gwen and Maggie’s bedroom — Kiera curled up with her legs tucked under her, Gwen in an armchair with a bottle of water, and Lillian perched gracefully on the couch, kicking off sleek sandals.
Kiera was the first to break the silence. “I kind of can’t believe I left them out there unsupervised,” she said, half grinning. “Pete with money and alcohol is… well. Good luck to Vegas.”
“They’ll be fine,” Gwen said, taking a sip of water. “And we needed the break.”
Kiera nodded, leaning her cheek against her knee. “True. I miss my girls, though. I keep checking my phone like something huge is going to happen in the five hours since my mom texted me last.” She laughed at herself, soft and tired. “They’re probably just asleep after eating weirdly healthy cereal for dinner and watchingK-Pop Demon Huntersagain.”
Gwen smiled faintly. “That sounds familiar. The boys are obsessed with that one.” She let herself exhale. “Isn’t it weird to miss them even when you’re enjoying yourself on vacation?”
“So weird,” Kiera agreed, the word popping with tired affection.
Lillian tipped her head, her dark hair catching the lamplight. “See, that’s what makes me certain I’m not cut out for it. That constant vigilance, that permanent ache when they’re not in the room? I know myself too well.”
Her tone wasn’t sharp, just steady, almost self-aware. She folded her hands in her lap. “I mean, I know Pete probably doesn’t talk about it, but growing up in foster care, bouncing around until I was seventeen… It sucks. For a long time, I thought maybe I’d want to give a kid the stability I never had. But the truth is… I don’t think I have it in me.”
Kiera shifted, her face open, gentle. “And that’s perfectly okay.”
“More than okay,” Gwen added, surprising herself with the conviction in her voice. “Knowing what you want — or don’t want — doesn’t make you less. It makes you honest.”
