bad shit going on, Bree," I said softly. "You can always talk to me, okay? Any fucking time. And if you need that normalcy, then let's just do this. We can have normal without risking my crazy stalker cutting out our hearts and dropping them off on the doorstep in a gift-wrapped box."
Bree cringed. "Geez, when you put it like that, I feel like an even bigger moron for wanting a girls’ night without your shadows." I laughed, but she covered her face and groaned. "Okay, can we change the subject now? Can you please tell me about this photo shoot with Archer, of all people? I thought you'd declared holy war on those three?"
I laughed at that. "I have. Or, I had. Ugh, Kody and Steele are impossible to stay truly mad at. But tell me something before all of that?"
She nodded quickly. "Anything."
"Are you okay now? Like, really okay? You said you have a therapist?" I eyed her carefully, searching her face for any signs of bullshit. I didn't want her just telling me what I wanted to hear.
But when she nodded, I believed her. "I am. I do have a therapist. Dallas talked me into going just after you got stabbed and I had a bit of a panic attack."
Guilt clawed at me again. It brought all new clarity to the way she'd defended the guys’ bullshit moves to keep me safe.
"Well, I'm glad you have help. And that Dallas is being good to you. But if you ever need to talk..."
She smiled with a touch more warmth. "I know. I should have just told you sooner. Now please explain the Archer thing."
It was my turn to take a few long swallows from the wine while I gathered my thoughts. It was hard to believe it'd only been a little over twenty-four hours since Bree and I had been at the movies with Dallas and Scott. What a shitstorm we were living in.
"Alright," I started, letting out a long breath. "So, I'll start with how I ended up fucking Kody, and then I can tell you how I shot a guy today."
Bree's jaw dropped much like mine had at her revelations. "Holy shit," she breathed, looking shocked as hell. "I knew you'd jump him first. I bet the sex was insane, too."
My laughter this time was edging on hysterical, and she gave me a knowing grin.
"Tell me about all the orgasms first, then we can talk about shooting people. Goddamn, my best friend is a legit badass now." She muttered the last part, but her smile was proud. She wasn't horrified in the least, and I fucking loved that about Bree.
It felt all kinds of amazing to have my friend back, for real.
20
Bree and I sat up talking for most of the night and fell asleep on the couch sometime just before dawn. Neither of us had anywhere we desperately needed to be the next day, though, so we didn't give two craps. All that mattered was that we'd reconnected properly for the first time since I'd been arrested on Riot Night.
At some point, when I hadn't been asleep anywhere near long enough, I woke up with a chill. Grumbling under my breath about sleep disruptions, I dragged a blanket out of the linen closet for Bree, then climbed into my bed to snuggle under blankets. I'd been tucked in for less than a minute, though, when my phone let out a shrill tone and just about made me pee myself in fright.
I dove across to where I'd left it plugged in beside the bed and hit the answer-call button before even checking the screen so it wouldn't wake Bree up.
"Hello?" I said in a hushed voice, blinking wine haze and sleep from my eyes. No one replied.
Confused, with my heart still pounding hard from the fright, I pulled the phone from my ear and peered at the caller ID.
"What the fuck?" I muttered, putting the phone back to my ear. "Bree? Why are you calling me from the living room?"
No answer, again. Maybe it was just a butt-dial while she was sleeping? But then... no, I could hear breathing. Heavy breathing, but not the sort of someone sleeping.
Scrambling out of my blankets, I bit back a wave of apprehension.
"Bree, if this is your idea of a joke..." I started to say, opening my bedroom door and heading back through to where I'd left her asleep on my couch. "Then it's not fucking funny."