Page 117 of Spiced!

I thought—not in words, exactly, more in the wordless way you think a thing you’ve been avoiding wording—that I didn’t want to go back to before. That was the whole of it. No fireworks. Just a Tuesday, and a sleeping man, and a ferret committing petty theft, and two succulents in the sun, and a veterinarian who had spent his whole life being extremely good at the fixing of things discovering that there was nothing here to fix.

Adrian woke at four with a crease from the couch cushion down one cheek and a moment of disorientation before he located me and the ceiling and the whole situation.

“I fell asleep,” he said, appalled.

“You did.”

“In front of you.”

I grinned and nodded. “On me, actually. Puck participated.”

He looked down at the ferret, who clearly had no intention of moving. “He’s on my legs.”

“He’s claimed you. It’s a whole thing. There’s paperwork. Doña Carmen has a copy.”

Adrian laughed, still half asleep. Then he reached up and pulled me down by the collar and kissed me with morning breath and a couch-crease. I thought, again, in the wordless place, This, whatever this is, I want to not wreck this.

I should have paid closer attention to the word I reached for.

Wreck.

That was such a poor choice.

I have since thought about the fact that even in the happiest afternoon of my life to that point, some part of me was already bracing for the version of me that broke things.

I stayed on the couch until my leg went numb, and the light went orange, and the man I loved slept against me again. For once in my life, I let a good thing simply be good, without opening it up to see how it worked.

That was the last completely uncomplicated memory I had before the party.

Chapter 34

Adrian

Finn had closed the bar until three. This was, by Barbacks standards, a seismic event.

With the exception of my dance performance, which would forever be a singular event in Barbacks lore, Finn closed the bar for exactly three things: deep cleaning, health inspections, and the one time a pipe had burst in the men’s room. Rod had stood in the hallway watching the water spread while deciding whether this was his problem.

A voluntary Sunday closure for a staff meeting meant Finn had been thinking about this for a while and had decided it required the full attention of everyone in the room without the distraction of customers needing things. I came through the back at eleven-thirty with my coffee and my gym bag.

Benji sat perched on his usual stool. Jacks stood beside him, leaned against the bar with a glass of water and the upright posture of someone who had arrived even earlier than the rest of us and wanted credit for it. Rod stood in the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed and a half smirk teasing his mouth.

All eyes snapped to me when I stepped through the door.

I should’ve turned and run.

“There he is,” Benji said, sounding more like a game show announcer than bartender.

“Hey, Adrian.” Jacks raised his water, his greeting warm and uncomplicated. He was clearly not yet aware of his role in what was about to happen.

Rod said nothing. This meant he was fully present.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Benji said.

“Nothing,” Jacks confirmed.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?”