I unlocked the deadbolt and held my breath, praying no one else was home. It was shortly after nine, so the odds were in my favor. The navy blue door swung open with a creak, revealing a dark, quiet, and blessedly roommate-free house. I hung up my parka and heaved a sigh, the tension in my body easing. Maybe it was a little pitiful to be home alone on a Saturday night, but the solitude was a welcome reprieve from the interrogation I was sure to face in the near future.

I flipped on the porch light and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water before going straight to my bedroom. Amelia and Jillian were probably staying over at the house Paul and Mendez shared with Luke, but there was still a chance they would come home tonight. And if they did, I would definitely pretend to be asleep.

Then I walked upstairs, pulling out my phone to survey the extent of the damage to my personal life. Not surprisingly, I had three missed calls and fifteen new texts. I already had a pretty good idea what they said, and I had no interest in engaging in discussion about Chase, my personal life, or any combination thereof. Instead, I opened each message without looking at its contents, then left them all on read to let everyone know I was still alive.

Not that it was my safety they were worried about.

It was loyalty.

* * *

The following morning, I was sitting at the island eating a bowl of strawberry granola with milk and minding my own business when I was ambushed. Jillian and Amelia descended the staircase in tandem, like they’d been plotting military strategy upstairs. They came into the kitchen, pinning me with gimlet eyes and circling like sharks.

My stomach sank, appetite vanishing. Jillian came to a stop and leaned against the counter, facing me. Amelia continued to pace nervous circles on the tile flooring. Their outfits even coordinated. Both wore black sweaters and dark jeans. Whether the clothing choice was intentional or not, this was clearly a straight-up intervention.

Jillian was only five-three and a hundred pounds soaking wet, and Amelia wasn’t much bigger, but the effect of the two of them combined was oddly intimidating.

“Carter, B?” Amelia gestured wildly, her perfectly arched brows knit together. “What in the world is going on?”

I glanced up from my half-empty bowl and set my spoon in the pink milk. “We’re friends,” I said. “That’s all.”

Jillian crinkled her nose. “Why?”

Annoyance simmered in the pit of my stomach, bitter and burning. It wasn’t like I was president of the Chase Carter Fan Club all of a sudden, but her condescending tone rubbed me the wrong way.

Especially when they all kissed Luke’s ass constantly.

And especially when she’d barely spoken to me all week.

“Why not?” I slurped my coffee, intentionally being obnoxious.