Chapter 19
Sloane
By the time I make it upstairs, the noise could pass for a riot.
Laughter spills through the hallway, loud and overlapping.
Someone shrieks Ruby's name like a curse, then wheezes into hysterics.
Music thumps faintly under it all. Something loud and poppy with way too much bass for the tiny Bluetooth speaker they stole from the downstairs bar.
I pause outside Malachi's bedroom door and smile before I can stop myself.
Knox and I have been careful with each other all week, gentle where we used to be easy, but the sharp edges have smoothed enough that his texts make me smile again instead of flinch.
The word home shows up before I can block it.
I knock once, knuckles barely brushing wood.
"Who dares disturb this sacred temple?" Ruby yells.
Frankie's dry voice follows. "It's Sloane, you menace. Let her in before she changes her mind."
I open the door and step into chaos.
Malachi's room has been completely taken over.
The bed is unmade and shoved at an angle like someone tried to move it before giving up halfway.
An explosion of blankets and pillows covers the floor, making a nest of mismatched fabrics.
Takeout containers tower on the dresser.
Candles flicker on the nightstands. Those must be Frankie's doing, judging by the smoky sage and clove scent under the pizza.
A movie plays on the TV, paused on a frame of a clown crawling out of a storm drain.
I glare at it on instinct. "You promised we weren't actually watching It."
Ruby puffs up, perched on the floor in leggings and an oversized T-shirt that says GENDER ROLES? I PREFER CHAOS. Hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun that somehow still looks intentional.
"We're not. I was just showing Candace why Knox is a coward."
"He's not a coward," I mutter automatically, stepping over a pile of blankets. "He just hates clowns."
"The only rational stance," Frankie adds from where she's sprawled on her stomach, shuffling UNO cards like she's about to hustle a casino. Black hair falls into her pale face in short, sharp lines, blue-green eyes gleaming. "You good, nurse?"
I nod, toeing off my shoes. "No twelve-hour shift tomorrow. I'm officially off duty and ready to make questionable choices."
Ruby claps. "Hell yes. Come sit your hot wife ass down."
Candace is on the bed, back against the headboard, Malachi's hoodie swallowing her whole. The sleeves cover her hands, hem falling halfway down her thighs. Wild blonde curls piled in a messy knot. She looks softer than usual.
Her eyes catch mine and she gives a small, genuine smile. "You made it."
"Wouldn't miss it. Also, if I went home, Knox would try to talk me into naked cardio, and I promised Maggie I'd keep an eye on you." I glance around the room. "Where's Darla?"
"Still at East's," Candace says. "She texted. Said she wasn't up for it yet, but she wants pictures."
Ruby snorts. "You make that sound like a hardship."
Maggie chooses that exact moment to walk in, balancing a tray of snacks, tattooed arms steady, domestic goddess in full command. She eyes me pointedly.
"You promised you wouldn't let these girls survive on pizza alone. Here. Veggies. Fruit. Something with actual vitamins."
We all stare at the tray.
"Those grapes better be drunk," Ruby says suspiciously.
Maggie gives her a look. "The grapes are fine. The brownies are not." She sets the tray down with a flourish. "James says if he hears screaming upstairs that is not horror-movie related, he's not coming to investigate. Those are girl screams. He does not get involved in girl screams."
Candace snorts into her sleeve. Frankie cackles.
Maggie's gaze softens on Candace. "You need anything, baby, you yell. I'll be right down the hall."
"I'm good. Thanks, Mags."
Maggie kisses the top of her head like she has every right, then pats my shoulder on the way out. "You too, mouse. No all-nighters. Sleep is medicine."
"Yes, ma'am."
Ruby waits until the door clicks shut, then leans toward me, eyes gleaming. "So. Will your husband survive being away from you for one entire evening, or will he wither away like a Victorian heroine?"
My phone buzzes. I pull it out.
Knox: You at the clubhouse yet?
Me: Yes.
Three dots pop up immediately.
Knox: Send proof.
I roll my eyes and flip the camera, snapping a picture of my socked feet surrounded by blankets and half-eaten fries. Send.
Ruby throws herself across the bed dramatically. "Tell him if he's so desperate he can come braid our hair and paint our nails. I have glitter polish with his name on it."
"He'd do it," Candace says quietly, picking at her sleeve. "You know he would."
"She's right," Frankie murmurs. "Men who worship their wives will do crimes for them. Nail polish is nothing."
My face warms. Another text.
Knox: Cute socks. I like you better without them.
Heat curls low in my stomach. I type back before my brain can catch up.
Me: You're supposed to be with Malachi. Club stuff.
Knox: We're done. Malachi sent me home because the girls took over his room like it's a sorority annex. I wasn't allowed to argue.
"Is that Knox?" Ruby demands.
"He says Malachi kicked him out."
Ruby grins, viciously pleased. "Good. King Growly can sleep in the guest room for once. This room is ours now."
Candace blushes under her freckles. "It's still his room."
"Temporarily annexed," Frankie says. "For sacred feminine rituals and talking shit."
Another buzz.
Knox: You staying the night?
My fingers hesitate.
Me: Probably.
Knox: Good. I like you there.
Ruby watches my face and sighs dramatically. "He so wants to climb up the side of the house like Romeo and steal you."
"He can't. The gutters wouldn't survive."
"You wouldn't survive," Frankie counters. "He'd get you halfway out the window, forget stealth, and rail you against the siding."
Candace chokes on a fry. "Frankie."
"What?" Frankie blinks innocently. "You think he doesn't? That man looks at Sloane like he wants to die on top of her. Respectfully."
My phone buzzes again, as if proving her point.
Knox: Text me if you need me. For any reason. Or for no reason. You say "come get me," I'm on the bike in under a minute.
I lock the screen, tucking the phone away before my heart starts doing stupid things.
Ruby claps once. "Okay, enough heterosexual longing. It's time for Twister and emotional damage."
Frankie sweeps the UNO cards into a pile and shoves them aside. "Saving these for later. You're all going to lose."
"Those are opposites," I say.
Ruby grins. "Not the way I play."
We clear a space, pushing blankets to the edges. Frankie unrolls the Twister mat like she's laying out a ritual circle. Candace watches, amused, hoodie sleeves flopping.
"You're actually serious," she says.
"Deadly," Ruby replies, tossing her hair. "Frankie and I are undefeated champions of Bitch Twister."
"Bitch Twister?" I echo.
Frankie lifts a brow. "You'll see."
Ruby grabs the spinner, then pauses. "Hold up. Candace, what's your flexibility situation? Be honest. Can you pretzel, or will you break like a brittle little Barbie?"
Candace makes a face. "I'm fine. Mostly healed. And extremely bendy, thank you."
Frankie snorts. "You did not need to add the 'extremely bendy' part."
Candace shrugs, deadpan. "Facts are facts."
Ruby hands her the spinner. "Great. You're judge. The power is yours. Use it for evil."
Candace's eyes light up with unholy glee. "Oh, I will."
Ruby, Frankie, and I move onto the mat. Candace cross-legged on the bed, spinner in hand.
"Right hand red."
We lean, arms crossing. The mat squeaks under our palms.
"Left foot green."
Ruby and Frankie move easily. I overcompensate and almost face-plant into Frankie's ass.
"Intimate," Frankie says mildly.
"Shut up," I choke, catching myself, hair falling in my face.
Ruby laughs so hard she tips sideways. "I'm getting a free show."
Candace grins, looking more like a twenty-something and less like a trauma survivor for the first time all night. "Right foot blue."
Twister devolves quickly into something that would scandalize every PTA in Illinois. I end up practically underneath Ruby. Frankie's bent backward at ninety degrees beside us, somehow perfectly balanced.
"Left hand yellow," Candace calls, eyes gleaming. "Ruby, if you put your hand anywhere near Frankie's boobs, it's a penalty."
Ruby groans. "Wow. Targeted attack on my artistic freedom."
Frankie deadpans, "It's literally cheating."
"I call it creative expression."
Two spins later my thigh starts to burn. "Okay," I gasp. "Time-out. I do twelve-hour shifts, not CrossFit."
"You lost," Frankie says serenely, untangling herself with scary grace. "Get off my mat."
Ruby flops onto her back, spread-eagle, panting dramatically. "Bury me with my glitter. Tell Kyle I died honorably."
Frankie arches a brow. "You mean tell him you died being dramatic."
Candace snickers. "You have been glued to him lately."
Ruby waves a hand. "He's adorable. And useful. Like a golden retriever who can lift heavy things."
I crawl off the mat, breathless. "Pretty sure half the guys downstairs think you're danger incarnate."
Ruby grins wickedly. "Good. If they're confused, I'm doing my job."
Frankie mutters, "Some of them are… confused."
Ruby beams like she's won a humanitarian award. "Good. My work here is done." She tosses a handful of popcorn in the air and catches none of it.
We collapse back into the nest. Someone presses a cold soda into my hand. The movie changes to something without clowns. Ruby talks over both the music and dialogue.
"Okay," she announces. "New game. Highs and lows. One good thing from this week, one crap thing."
Frankie makes a face. "That sounds like group therapy."
"It's girls' night," Ruby counters. "Same thing, but with more carbs."
Candace hesitates, shoulders hunching.