Yeah.

We should’ve.

But we didn’t.

Bren sighed. “We know now.”

It was midnight when Jordan came back inside. He’d been out there for hours, only taking a break to come in, piss, grab a new beer, get a phone charger, and head back out. The phone was always in his hand. He left it on the table when he went to the bathroom, but swooped it back up as soon as he went to the backyard.

He looked like shit when he was out there, even before he was out there. Now he looked like a wrecking ball came at him and targeted him for a direct hit. He tossed the phone to Zellman. “You need to charge it.”

Zellman caught it, didn’t say a word, moved from his seat, and slid it into his pocket. He never took his eyes off of Jordan.

None of us did.

“She quit school.”

Fuck.

Bren’s hand found mine on the couch. Her pinkie wrapped tightly around mine and she squeezed hard.

Jordan’s voice came out sounding strangled. “Said this thing with Harper hit her harder than she thought. She went to Roussou Friday night and she’s been there the whole time. She took a leave of absence, but she’s probably done. So yeah, she quit school. Gonna stay there, help Sunday with the kid.”

Zellman swore under his breath. “Sunday’s due soon, too.”

Jordan nodded, both his hands going to his hair. His eyes were wild, crazy. He found me. “I need a party. I need girls. I need loud music. I need booze. I need to not think right now, and a party will help me really not think. Does your brother know of a party happening right now?”

My brother had a soccer game tomorrow, so he was probably in bed.

But I said, “I can text him.”

Zellman snorted. “The guy doesn’t party unless it’s with Allen.”

“Fuck!” Jordan threw his head back, starting to pace. It was just like outside, only worse now because he knew everything.

Bren leaned forward. “We can go to Cougar Lanes? My job.”

“Isn’t that closed?”

She shook her head. “It’s a bar, but it’s a bowling alley. It stays open till two. The guys won’t care. Promise.”

Jordan blew out a ragged puff of air, his hands coming out of his hair. “Yeah. Okay. That’s enough. Can we sneak in booze?”

“Yes, but we cannot get caught. I might not drink.”

Zellman stood up, shooting Bren a grin. “Pretty sure the only person drinking tonight is Jordan.”

Bren nodded. “I’ll call and make sure there’s a lane open. It can get busy Thursday nights, or so I’ve heard. I’ve not worked the evening shift there.”

“It’s kinda hot that you work in a bowling place.”

We all stopped.

I shot Zellman a glare, then because there was nothing to say to that, I clipped him in the back of his head.

“Hey!” He gave me a look.

“The fuck you say shit like that?”

“What? I like bowling.” He was looking at us, wide-eyed. Not getting it. “Have I never told you guys that?”

“No.”

Jordan wasn’t talking. His hands were pushed in his pockets, his shoulders hunched forward. He looked ready to topple a mountain, and also ready to be blown over by a gust of wind. The dichotomy was real tonight.

Bren held her hands up. “I’m pretty sure we’ve been over this before. You’re not supposed to use the word ‘hot’ and me in the same sentence. Ever.”

Zellman frowned as Bren was grabbing her stuff, ready to go.

I only needed my keys and wallet, which were by the door.

“I think we have, actually.” He gave her a crooked grin. “Sorry.”

Bren was headed out the door. “Stop talking. Just…stop talking.”

Zellman followed. “I really am sorry. I don’t even mean it that way. I use ‘hot’ for everything lately—”

“STOP talking! Just stop. Now.”

Their voices carried across the distance, and I remained in place, glancing over at Jordan.

He was looking at me, not holding anything back. He had aged ten years in the last four hours. He blew out another breath, shaking his head. “She quit school, man. Was that my fault?”

I shook my head. “No. It’s hers, all hers. Zellman’s right. She chose. I know you probably reached out.”

“I did. A few times. I kept getting forwarded to Sunday.”

Then she had got the messages. Bren’s too.

“You can only follow your gut, but mine is saying that Tabatha needs to work this out on her own.”

“So what do I do while she does?”

Zellman hollered from outside, “Let’s go! I’m not lying about bowling. I really do like it. I’m going to wipe the floor with all of you losers.”

I grinned, pointing outside. “Apparently, we bowl.”

FROM: Tazsters

TO: Cain Group

SUBJECT: grrrrr

No one is checking their emails tonight. What the hell? I’m in Grant West. Hello. I need hourly updates, none of this whenever you get to it crap. I’m a part of the Wolf Crew. I mean, I’m not, but you guys know what I mean. I’m blood. I can feel Cross’s emotions sometimes. That makes me half him, and that sounds weird.

Fine.

Signing off.

Love everyone.

Did you guys know that band Sustain used to play here a lot? So cool!

Race says you guys suck. Wait. Never mind. He was saying that about his cell reception.

Keep. Me. Updated!

THE BEST TWIN

Also, I’m not liking that I’m not in the ‘Cain group’ email list. So not cool.

BREN

I’d forgotten it was Halloween this weekend.

That’s something I should’ve remembered, or I felt like I should’ve. We walked into Coug r Lanes and it was full of witches, goblins, angels, even some dressed up as politicians. There was a guy who’d made himself into a condom stand. Another person was dressed up as a giant wiener dog.

“Whoa.” Zellman drew up short.

Neon orange lights were everywhere. Lining the bowling lanes, under every shelf that the bowling balls were on, under all of the counters. There was so much orange that no other lights were needed. I’d been in here just today and hadn’t noticed the decorations, but now there was a giant witch hanging over the lanes. A huge squid looked like it was coming down from the ceiling, set above the cash register. There were spider webs all over. A small claw machine game was filled to the brim with candy bars.

A guy was behind the register, someone I’d never seen before. He hadn’t seen me either. There was no recognition when we stepped up and asked for a lane. I had called ahead, but the line was busy.

The guy frowned at me. “We won’t have an opening for another hour.”

Zellman frowned. “Fuck that. There’s two open right now.” He gestured to the far end.

“They’re reserve—”

“Let them have one.” Brock was coming down from the direction of the offices. He was behind the counter and he nodded at me. “This is Monroe. She works the day hours.”

The guy blinked, staring at me. “Whoa. Hey! You’re Bren Bren?”

“Uh…”

Zellman started laughing. “Bren Bren! Classic. Good thing you’re behind that counter. You’ll still have your head attached.”

I hit his chest. “Zellman.”

He didn’t react, just moved out of the way and put some cash on the counter. “For the lane. Thank you, sir.”

The guy shrugged, taking the cash. He filled out shoe orders and moved down the counter to help a couple of ladies from The View. I was assuming the girl in dreadlocks was Whoopi.

“These are your friends, Bren?”

Brock hadn’t moved away. He was eyeing Cross, who was standing behind me, with interest. Jordan was following Zellman looking for their bowling balls. Or I should correct that Zellman was looking, taking out a ball, testing it, giving it to Jordan. Jordan stood there, holding the ball. I had a feeling Jordan didn’t know where he was or what he was doing.

“Yeah,” Cross was saying over my shoulder, his chest touching my back. “We live together.”

Cross’ tone was noticeably cold.

I turned, frowning. His gaze was locked on Brock.

Brock was nodding. He was dressed more normal, in a Henley shirt and jeans. He said to me, jerking his head, “It was nice to meet your friends. I’m at the end of the bar if you need anything.” He gestured to the worker. “That’s Trundle. His first name is Justin, but just call him Trundle.”

Trundle was coming back to us, a little grin on his face. He was a bigger guy, in a black t-shirt that had an orange ghost on it, and khaki pants.

Pretty sure the weed smell was coming from him.

That, and his dilated eyes.

“Heya there. Sorry I didn’t put two and two together. My sister is Hawk.”

“Really?” Hawk hadn’t mentioned her family.

He nodded, his hand resting on the counter and starting to beat out a rhythm. “Older. She’s mentioned you and I should’ve known. Said you were hella hot, a tough bitch. Her words. That’s a compliment from my sis. If she mentions you, she either hates your guts or likes you.”

“Older sister?”

He nodded, his head and neck were so relaxed, it was like he was bouncing it up and down or like one of those bobble head toys. “Yeah, and hey, I don’t know if you guys are legal, but on the down-low, I can give you a soda with an extra kick.” He winked on the last word, his eyes jerking toward Brock. “Just don’t let Brock know. Bounty hunters and all, he looks down on that shit, but if Hawkie likes you, I figure you’re good people.”