I need to stay professional, so I get out, wrap myself in a towel, and I’m barely into my bedroom when my phone rings.
Nina’s name flashes on the screen.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Girl, get dressed. We’re going out.” Her voice is tight, forced cheerfulness barely covering something darker.
“What’s going on?”
“I need a girls’ night. To get drunk and laugh and just… not think for a while.” She takes a shaky breath. “Please?”
“Nina, what happened?”
“My ex showed up at the bakery today.” The words come out in a rush. “The Alpha who spent two years convincing me I was broken and unlovable? He just waltzed in like nothing happened. Ordered a coffee. Smiled at me like we were old friends. And I… I couldn’t even tell him to leave. I just froze.”
My chest tightens. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says quickly. “I want cocktails and loud music and to forget he exists. Please? I know you have work tomorrow, but I really need this.”
I’m exhausted. Have to be at work at seven a.m., and I should definitely say no.
“Give me twenty minutes,” I say instead.
“Thank you so much.” She hangs up, and I move quickly, pulling on my small black thong, my favorite tight blue jeans, the ones that hug every curve and sit perfectly on my hips. I grab the gold waist chain I love, the delicate links catching the light as I fasten it just above my waistband. Then a white long-sleeved crop top with a low scoop neckline that shows just enough skin to be interesting. Black boots with thick heels complete the outfit.
I look good, feel good, and Nina needs me. I comb my hair and apply makeup, nothing dramatic, but enough to show I’ve put in effort.
Then I shoot a quick text to Marcy:Taking the night off. Might be home late.
Her response is immediate:GOOD. You need a break. I’ll handle the followers. They’ll be feral tomorrow, though.
I grin and type back:Wouldn’t expect anything less.
A honk sounds from outside, so I grab my ID, money, phone, and keys, stuff them into my pockets, and rush downstairs.
Nina is waiting in a cherry-red vintage Beetle that somehow suits her perfectly. I open the door, and she’s grinning at me. She’s wearing dark-wash jeans and a gorgeous wine-colored blouse that drapes beautifully, with a leather jacket.
“You look amazing,” I say, getting into my seat.
“So do you.” She puts the car in gear, pulling out onto the street. “Thanks for coming. I know it’s last minute.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
We drive through town, and I watch the buildings. We pass by the bakery with its lights off, the small shops closing up, the few restaurants still glowing warm. It’s charming in that small-town way, everything feeling slower and more intimate than the city.
Then we’re leaving the main street behind, heading out on a winding road that takes us into the woods.
Trees close in on both sides, their branches creating a canopy overhead that blocks out most of the sky. The road narrows, becomes rougher, and I glance at Nina.
“Should I be worried about where we’re going? Because this feels like the setup for a horror movie.”
She laughs. “Trust me. This place is worth it.”
Nina begins telling me about how she almost left town after the breakup, how she considered starting over somewhere new.“But this is home,” she explains. “And I realized I shouldn’t have to leave just because he’s a piece of garbage. He doesn’t get to take this from me.”
“No,” I agree. “He doesn’t.”
The road opens up suddenly into a large clearing. A dirt parking lot filled with cars and trucks, and in the center is this enormous wooden structure lit up like something out of a dream.
