Tonic’s shoulders slump, her eyes welling. “She wasn’t at our practice space this morning. When I texted, she wrote back, Sorry. Under contract with W. Solo act. Huge opportunity! Couldn’t say no!” Her hand strays to her left side as she recites the message. I wince: her tattoo, the one that coordinates with Ginn’s.

“Would you like a hug,” I offer, “or will that make you cry?”

“I could go for a hug,” she says in a small voice.

I wrap my arms around her and give her a squeeze. The girl is solid wiry muscle and trembles like a whippet as quiet sobs overtake her. A moment later, Jane joins the hug from behind Tonic, and a pair of softballs jam between my shoulder blades as another pair of arms envelops me; Ming. Andrea reaches over Jane to pat Tonic’s shoulder.

Here are my people. The thought almost makes me smile, but it falters immediately. I try to remember what Darcy said about not blaming myself, but I can’t help it. Wickham had his own connection to the club, but I’m the one who let him embed himself in the group. I drew the plans that stole the deal. I’m why we’re here, trying to keep this found family from fracturing.

The thought becomes less grim as I dwell on it. I am why we’re all here. I got us gathered in one place. The group hug slowly disbands. A tear slips down my cheek, and as I take in the faces around me, I’m not the only one whose eyes are wet.

This is worth fighting for.

“So.” The word comes out wobbly. I clear my throat. “The deal fell through.”

Even though everyone has had a few hours to process the information, the words suck the life out of the group. Shoulders droop, brows crease, and the only sounds for a few seconds are a sniffle from Tonic and the low hum of the room’s wine fridges.

“Andrea,” I ask, “do you have any idea what to expect from the next few weeks?”

She sighs. “You have a month before he closes for renovations. Bookings and schedules are good through then, assuming any of you can stomach the idea. Tonic, luv . . .” Andrea looks to Tonic, who chews on her thumbnail, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I don’t know what you can expect. It’s a hideous situation for you.”

Tonic nods, eyes still downcast. Ming throws an arm over her shoulder, tugging her close.

“I’m already out.” Andrea takes a dramatic pull from her mimosa. “That Wickham bastard is coming in this week to get a feel for how things are run. He said I was welcome to help transition, but I told him to stuff it. It’s humiliating enough to be shoved aside after so many years there. I’m not going to stand by and watch him steal it.”