Why I think about that now, I have no fucking idea. But at least I don’t feel the urge to go bow down to the porcelain gods, so that’s something.

I clear my throat and point to my chest. “Me? I’m trying to kill you?”

Jeremy chuckles.

Will’s eyes widen, and I only just realize why they look so much brighter tonight: he’s drunk off his ass. Fuck, they both are.

“No,” he says vehemently, but then his face quickly pulls into a scrunched-up frown. “Actually yes. Maybe. But like, ‘snot your fault.”

I blink.

Jeremy laughs. “You said snot.”

Will whispers through the side of his mouth, “Shut up, I’m drunk.”

I bite down on my smile.

He holds his hands up suddenly, the half-empty cup in his left hand crunching when he grips it just a little too tight. “It’s not my fault,” he enunciates very carefully.

I arch a brow. “Let me guess. Ivy?”

“She’s trying to kill me, I swear.”

Ah. I make a come-hither gesture with my fingers. “Give me that.”

Will reluctantly hands me the cup, our fingers brushing the faintest bit. Our eyes collide, and for one brief, frozen moment in time, I allow myself to linger there, in his touch and in those ocean blues, before looking over at Jeremy.

It never fails to send me reeling when I look into those achingly familiar amber eyes. Reigniting that hollow ache in my chest, just when I think it’s finally healed.

He smiles faintly, sadly, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. He’d know. He’s the one who has to look in the mirror every day and see the same shade of eyes as his dead twin sister looking back at him.

“Hey Jer,” I whisper, reaching over for a hug, ignoring the way my heart seems to clench.

I screw my eyes shut briefly as his arms come around me. I’m not a big guy, but I always feel huge next to his much slighter frame. His pale blond hair, dyed to nearly white, tickles my cheek as we pull back. His cologne and something that is just distinctly him floods my nostrils, triggering a wave of nostalgia as all the time spent with the Montgomery family while growing up washes over me.

“I didn’t know you were coming in,” I say, fully aware of the eyes currently drilling into the side of my head. I gesture for Jeremy to hand me his cup. “And you too. You’re switching to water for a bit. Both of you. I thought you, of all people, would’ve known better than to drink anything Ivy makes. Remember Fourth of July?”

He winces. “No.”

I point my pinky finger at him from around his cup. “Exactly.”