I push open the door at Oscar’s Saloon & Grill, searching for Amanda, Hanna, and Lucy.

Oscar’s was my favorite restaurant as a kid. I used to beg to go there. I always ordered the same thing: a bacon cheeseburger with extra fries.

It hasn’t changed much. It still has the swinging saloon doors, the big mural of cowboys on the dusty main street of old Rush Creek, the moose and elk heads mounted over the bar.

They’ve refreshed some of the decor, but those parts have stayed the same, and I get a warm, homey feeling when I step in, which is intensified when Hanna, Lucy, and Amanda all wave me over to their table.

I’m a little nervous about going out for drinks with Amanda because of the whole bagged-her-brother dynamic. What gives me courage is the fact that Lucy is Gabe’s girlfriend, and that doesn’t seem to have kept her and Amanda from becoming chummy.

I’m also on edge because of the cryptic thing Brody said last night when he dropped me off, about not believing everything they said. What was that about?

Amanda and Lucy greet me warmly, and I return their hugs and hellos. Hanna, who hasn’t left her seat, grunts hello, then says, “Has someone briefed her on the rules?”

Amanda and Lucy roll their eyes. “Hanna is here provisionally,” Amanda says. “She’ll leave if we talk about anything girly.” She frowns. “Han, does that include vibrators? Because I can’t promise not to ask Rachel important questions about vibrators.”

She says this last part like the words start with capital letters: Important Questions About Vibrators.

“Hell no,” Hanna says. “There’s nothing girly about vibrators. They’re God’s gift to clitorises.”

Lucy’s eyes meet mine, and I see the question in them—Are you okay with this madness?

I smile and shrug, and she grins back at me.

Amanda sets her drink on the table. “Good, because honestly, Hanna, if you shut down the vibrator talk, I was going to make you leave.”

Hanna gives Amanda the finger and Amanda smiles sweetly back.

“Happy to answer any and all questions,” I say.

“Excellent!” Amanda beams.

Just then, our waitress comes to the table, a pretty young woman with dark hair and big blue eyes. She is super familiar—I think she might have been in the class ahead of me at school. Her nametag says “Jill.”

“Jill, this is—”

“You’re Connor’s sister, right?”

I nod. “Rachel.”

“Jill Cooper,” she says. “I was a year ahead of your brother in school. But I knew who he was.”

“Sadly, I think everyone in your class knows who Connor is.” I give her a what-can-you-do look.