“I’m an old pro.”

Somehow, that didn’t inspire a lot of confidence in me. Loved Shiv, but she was four drinks deep and built like Tinkerbell.

Shiv cut away the foil from around the neck of the bottle, then grabbed a white kitchen towel and pulled on the cork.

“Are you sur—” At the same time Dallas asked, her hand slipped, and the cork shot out of the bottle, sailing clear across the room. With a crash, it shattered a turquoise pendant light over the island.

Luckily, the four of us remained unscathed.

Siobhan turned, eyes wide, then looked back at the broken light fixture. Bailey’s expression was much the same. Champagne foam poured out of the bottle, spilling onto the floor, but she was too focused on the broken light dangling awkwardly from the ceiling.

“Um…is Stewart going be mad about that?”

Dallas shook his head, giving her a rueful smile as he fought back laughter. “No, that one’s on me. No more tipsy Siobhan opening champagne bottles.”

* * *

Bailey walked out of the bathroom in a set of dark gray pajama shorts and a tank top. She was all legs and all kinds of hot. Maybe we didn’t need to go right to bed.

“I know it’s late,” she said, “but I’m kind of wired. Can we stay up and snuggle for a bit?”

“Sure.” I slid over to make room for her beside me in the bed and wrapped my arm around her. Then a thought popped into my head, probably fueled by too many drinks and a long-standing, nagging curiosity.

“James?” I stroked her hair gently.

“Yeah?”

“This will sound a little out of left field, but I keep thinking about it. What happened when you were younger? Your brother said something about medical bills. I don’t want to pry, but you usually tell me everything.”

Bailey squirmed beside me like she was suddenly uncomfortable. There was a pause. “A bad car accident.”

My gut twisted at the thought. She had already dealt with so much in her life. I hated knowing this happened to her. “How bad?”

“Um…” She drew in a breath. “I had a concussion. Bruised ribs. Broke my femur.”

“Holy shit.” My hand froze. “A broken femur is a big deal.”

“Yeah, I was in a wheelchair for a while. My dad took a leave of absence from work to take care of me. But the person who hit us was underinsured, so it was an issue financially.”

Damn, she’d had so many bad breaks—no pun intended—that sometimes I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to fix every one, even when it wasn’t possible.

“Is that why you stopped playing hockey?” I asked carefully.

“No, that was a money thing…before the accident.”

My chest tightened like it was in a vise. “I’m sorry.”