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“Has that ever happened?”

“Not yet.” Hunter knocks his knuckles on the wood table and winks at me. “Don’t go trying to be the first just to get out of here, now.”

That makes me chuckle. With as warm and comfy as I’m feeling, risking my life to get away from these guys is the last thing on my mind. The kitchen spins around my head slightly and I put my empty cup on the table. Hunter lifts the bottle, silently offering me more, and I wave my hand.

“I think I’ve had enough—” I’m cut off by my own yawn, and I stretch into it. “Oh, what time is it?”

“Late,” Hunter says with a chuckle. “Probably about that time.”

I nod, yawning again. I get up out of my chair and the floor rolls under my feet. Laughing, I surf the roll until it stops. Hunter chuckles and then he’s at my side, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other steadying me by my wrist.

“Whoa, there! Maybe that third was a little too much.”

“It’s fine, I’m not driving,” I say with a grin.

That makes him laugh.

“Let’s see if you can navigate those stairs.”

We walk—or stumble—down the hallway and I realize belatedly that Beau might be asleep on the couch. I put my finger to my lips and shush Hunter, then point at the couch. He nods somberly and we sneak past him to the stairs. For some reason I can’t quite explain, I find the whole thing hilarious and have to stifle my laughter as we make our way slowly and clumsily up the stairs.

At the top of the stairs, I nearly stumble backward. The only thing that saves me is Hunter’s arm, strong around my waist. We make it almost to my—Beau’s—room before I trip over my own feet and faceplant into Hunter’s chest.

“Oops,” I say against his flannel. I breathe him in as I straighten myself up. His arm is still around me. He’s so close I can smell the warm whiskey on his breath… or maybe that’s my breath. I look into his warm, hazel eyes behind his foggy glasses.

“Careful,” he says quietly. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers gently stroking my face as he moves. He’s so close I could kiss him if I wanted to.

I really could.

We haven’t moved for several seconds. He’s just looking at me, breathing into me as I breathe his air, holding me upright against my own drunkenness. He leans close and murmurs in my ear.

“Goodnight, Josie.”

He opens the bedroom door and steps back a little. I stumble slightly as I walk into the room, my attention more focused on him than where I’m going. That doesn’t work out very well, and I end up sitting down hard on the bed. He gives me a small smile, hesitates for just a moment, then closes my door for me.

I have so many butterflies right now. Grinning, I crawl into bed and snuggle under the covers, pulling Hunter’s clothes tightly around me. Burying my nose in his shirt, I inhale his scent that has, by now, mingled with my own. It’s cozy in a way that’s also exciting.

As I lie there, feeling giddy and happy, full of butterflies and liquor, a thought creeps into my head.

What would Preston think of me?

All of the butterflies in my stomach turn to stone and drop. Forget what Preston would think, I tell myself with drunken rebellion. What do I think of me?

That comeback gets me nowhere. I don’t know what to think of myself. I’m lost. Completely lost. This is brand new territory and I have no roadmap, no guide, nothing but my own fear and anxiety keeping me from doing the one thing in the world I could have done to make my mother happy.

Mom. Shit, I never called her back! What is she going to say next? What is she telling people in my absence? I know she can’t understand me, because I can’t even understand myself.

The giddiness transforms into anxiety. I climb out of bed and strip off Hunter’s clothes, feeling guilty for wearing them in the first place, and pull on the oversized t-shirt I brought, an old one of Preston’s that he gave me a long time ago. It’s awkward and difficult, but I manage it and immediately get back into bed.

The bed around me feels like the only thing standing between me and an endless abyss. I picture the floor opening up to swallow me whole, and for a moment I wish it were true. If I could just disappear, none of this would matter anymore. None of my decisions would hang over me the way they are now, taunting me with all the ways I’ve let people down.

Tears slip down my cheeks. I don’t want the floor to swallow me up. I don’t want to feel like a failure. I just want… what? I don’t even know what I want anymore. Giving in to the sobs pressing against my chest, I cry myself to sleep.

11

BEAU

I wake up slumped against the wall in the hallway, my forearms resting on my knees as I lean against it. It takes me a second to register that what woke me up was the sound of Josie’s door opening.