Page 161 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

He disappears inside, leaving the door wide open. I reach for Logan again, and he takes my hand without hesitation. His eyes brim with questions, however, but he doesn’t ask them. He follows as I pull him with me, Goldie and Tesla linking arms behind us.

Inside, we gather for our pre-show ritual. Shot time. It’s sacred to us, something that began in this very room, with just the six of us.

Knox. Jonah. Bronson. Addison. Our manager, Jordan. And me.

Jonah pours the whiskey into plastic cups, handing them out one by one. Jordan slips in beside Bronson, and he automatically drapes an arm over her shoulders.

Before the Break the Rules tour upended our lives in almost every way, this was the core. The six of us, taking on the world together.

But our world’s changed since then.

Marla steps into the circle, taking her place beside her new husband. Jonah kisses her forehead and hands her a cup.

Harvey wraps his arms around Addison from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder.

August and Chrissy slide in, too, all flushed cheeks and secret smiles, looking like they just spent seven minutes together in a broom closet somewhere.

Knox pulls Harmony to his side, whispering something in her ear that makes her laugh as she takes a cup of her own.

And me...

I guide Logan into the circle beside me. No one blinks. No one questions it. I hand him a cup like he’s always belonged here. Another for Goldie. And Tesla, too.

“All right,” Knox says, eyes sweeping across the circle—across this messy, beautiful, chosen family we’ve built. “We ready?”

Everyone lifts their cups.

“Three!” I call out.

“Two!” Addison follows.

“One!” Jonah finishes.

“It’s shot time!” we all shout in unison, the room buzzing with the thrill of show night.

Let the Battle of the Bands begin.

39

KATRINA

Iwiggle my nose. Soft bedsheets brush against my skin; a silky, soothing sensation that leaves me tingling on the outside… while still tingling on the inside.

I tug the sheet down. Sunlight spills through the open curtains, bright and golden. I smile, eyes fluttering open as I stretch, waggling my fingers and toes.

A long, contented yawn escapes me as I glance around. The ceiling above. The furniture. The shape of the room.

Botsford Plaza Hotel. My home away from home.

I push myself upright; the sheets sliding off my naked chest as I scan the room. My dress lies pooled on the floor beside two pairs of shoes. Then there’s Logan’s jacket. His shirt. His pants.

Last night was…

I release a giddy laugh into the pillow, curling back into the warm cocoon of sheets.

Perfect.

Well, the Paul Monroe part I could’ve done without. But the rest?

---