At the same time, Katie answered, “Yes.”

I shot her a baleful look. “How do you know if we hooked up? Were you hiding in my house?”

“I know things,” she replied. “I know lots of things. And you totally just assumed that I’d be hiding in your house, which means something of the fleshy kind went down in your house.”

Calla propped her elbows on the table. “And Jax told me Reece came in on his night off and waited for you to get off. That you drove him home.”

“Jax gossips like a thirteen-­year-­old girl,” I retorted, but I wasn’t upset with the line of questioning. I was glad both girls could do breakfast this morning, because I really, really needed to talk to them.

A moment passed and then I leaned forward, unable to keep quiet about it a second longer. “Okay. We kind of did hook up Friday night. We didn’t have sex, but . . .” I trailed off, pulled back to those early-­morning hours. I could see him then, his hand wrapped around—­

“All right, you guys definitely did something of the fun and naughty kind based on the way you suddenly look like you just took a hit of ecstasy,” Katie said.

Calla clapped as she bounced in her seat. “For real? Okay, girl, I’m happy for you, because Katie is right, you look like you just slipped into a sex coma.”

“Something you know a lot about,” I said under my breath.

She itched her nose with her middle finger. “But you wouldn’t even talk to him just a few weeks ago. Every time he walked in or even looked in your direction, you bailed. I’ve always known something was up between you two, but I’m confused as to what is going on here.”

I gave a wobbly smile. “Well, it’s a long story.”

“Since I ordered half a pig, we have time,” Katie replied.

“And you guys are going to think I’m a terrible person.”

“Doubtful,” Calla reassured me.

I wasn’t so sure about that, but I hadn’t told a soul except Charlie about what had gone down between Reece and me, including the huge misunderstanding. I took a deep breath and then I told them everything about the night with Reece, pausing long enough for our food to be delivered.

“So, yeah, that’s . . . that’s where I’m at with everything,” I finished as I cut the rest of my syrup with a side of waffle into tiny squares.

Calla stared at me, a piece of extra-­crispy bacon dangling from her fingertips.

Even Katie gaped at me, which was saying something, if I managed to shock her into any realm of silence. I shrunk back against the booth, feeling sheepish and crappy. “I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?”

“No,” Calla said immediately. “You’re not a terrible person.”