Page 173 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

My entire skeleton collapses under the sudden weight of two more bodies slamming into us.

“Show us the ring!”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t let us see it before!”

“Sisters for liiiii-fe!”

Tesla and Goldie bounce up and down with Addison and me in the middle, all of us laughing and shrieking in a chaotic knot of limbs and joy.

“Hey, Jordan!” Knox calls, standing off to the side. “Come hear the good news!”

I thrust my hand out from our hug-pile, shouting, “I’m getting married tonight!”

“Oh,” Jordan says as she walks past, her voice thin and flat. “That’s nice, Kat.”

Addison and I both notice the strange note in her voice. We pat Goldie and Tesla’s arms to gently break free and step out of the tangle as Jordan brushes past us, pale-faced and rattled.

“Jordan?” Addison says carefully. “You okay?”

“Hm?” Jordan glances back, glasses slipping down her nose. “No, I’m good.”

Addison and I exchange a look. The others go quiet, too, all eyes watching her.

“I’m fine,” Jordan says, her laugh stiff and joyless. “Everything is fine. Weddings, yes. Marriage! Good call. Are there shots yet?”

She angles into the dressing room, bumping into Logan as he steps out.

“Oh—” Logan draws back, noticing her pale face. “Sorry, Jordan.”

“Hey, Logan,” she murmurs without meeting his eye as she passes.

He glances at us immediately. “Is she okay?”

“We were about to figure that out,” I say, my stomach twisting with unease.

“Yo, Bronson!” Knox calls out, spotting him wandering in from the bar.

“What’s wrong with Jordan?” Jonah asks.

Bronson says nothing, his expression tight, unreadable.

“Bron?” Addison prompts, eying him carefully. “You good?”

He exhales sharply, puffing out his cheeks.

Knox groans. “You’re not getting married, are you? Because you and I are the last bachelors left. We gotta stick together here!”

I flash my ring at Bronson, trying to lighten the mood. For a second, some genuine happiness flickers across his face.

“MOVE YOUR ASSES. IT’S SHOT TIME!”

Jordan’s voice cuts through the air like a whip crack.

We jerk in surprise. Bronson bolts straight toward the dressing room. The rest of us trail after him, buzzing with questions.

Inside the room, Jordan clumsily pours whiskey into red plastic cups. Harmony and Harvey stand nearby, both looking mildly alarmed. August and Chrissy sit quietly, brows knit. Priscilla lingers in the corner, her eyes tracking everything.

“Jordan, sweetie...” Addison approaches slowly. “You okay?”

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