“Maybe your friend will remember.”

“Maybe, I just wish I had my phone so I could call to make sure Carly’s okay.”

“Do you have her number at your house?”

“Yeah.” I meet his gaze then drop my voice. “Do you think I should call the cops?”

“I called my brothers, they’re getting the tapes from the bar you were at.”

“Brothers?” My brows dart together.

“Finish up your shake, I’m gonna get dressed then I’ll take you home.” He walks toward his bedroom, and I turn on my stool to watch him go. I know I didn’t mishear him–he said “brothers” meaning he has more than one who works as a police officer. I mean, I don’t know him so I guess I shouldn’t feel like that’s a big deal, but I can’t help but feel like it is for some reason, and I’m not supposed to know.

Getting up with my drink, I wander into the living room with Skye following at my side and go to a wooden shelf with framed photos on it. As I look at the pictures, I wonder who the couples and the families are, they look too perfect, like they’ve been photo shopped and Clay or his brother Tucker aren’t in a single picture.

Is this even his house?

When I hear the door open behind me, I turn expecting to see Clay but instead I watch a good-looking man wearing glasses, a t-shirt, and basketball shorts with rumpled hair stumble out of a room.

“Fucking stupid light,” he groans, almost bumping into a couch as he squints, his eyes closed.

A giggle bursts from between my lips as I watch him fumble his way around the living room furniture cursing, and at the sound he stops dead in his tracks and turns to face me. “Who are you?”

“Willow.” I smile and he drops his eyes to my shirt–or I guess it’s Clay’s shirt.

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles.

I tip my head to the side. “What?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I brought her home last night.” Clay cuts in and the guy looks his direction.

“He didn’t like bring me home bring me home, I was drugged.” My nose scrunches. “Or I think I was drugged.”

“You were drugged?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you call Miles and Tucker?” he asks, looking at Clay.

I do the same.

“They’re on it.” Clay tells him, then his eyes meet mine. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” I walk to the kitchen and set down the cup, then remove the towel from my head and look around for somewhere to put it.

“I’ll take it.” Clay grabs it tossing it onto the island, then motions to the door. “Your shoes are there.”

“Thanks.” I start to put them on while both men go into the bedroom where I can hear them talking in hushed tones. Curiosity has me wanting to eavesdrop, but just as I start to move to get closer to the door, Skye blocks my way and leans into me with her heavy weight.