“That’s not true and you know it,” she cries, reaching out to grab my shoulders. “He’s fallen for you, just like you have for him.”

Retreating, I move out of her grasp, not wanting to hear her lies. Hot tears flood from my eyes, but I’m too mad to care. “It is true!” I insist, stomping my foot on the concrete. “You just confirmed it by telling me that a week ago he started piecing his life back together…that he’s moving on and trying to be happy. I’m obviously not a part of that life, Mary. Don’t you see? He hasn’t contacted me! Not one fucking time! He feels nothing!”

“Hudson, please—”

“No, you please,” I interrupt again, raising my arms in the air to surrender, consciously trying to calm myself down. “Pl—please, I’m begging you. I just want to be alone right now. Go back and enjoy the rest of your Christmas. I’ll come back to the house in a little while.”

Hesitantly, she leaves me be, but within five minutes, my three older sisters have taken her place. At first, I try to send them all on their merry way as well, but after we plop down on the ground and share a joint, I end up opening up about Crew. Nali wraps her arms around me while I sob out the entire story, and by the end, Kota’s offering to beat him up. Juno tops that, volunteering to kick him in the balls or take a baseball bat to his truck, and somehow, by the time they’re done, there are plans to castrate him.

Before I know it, my tears are dry, I’m giggle-snorting, and they’re dragging me off to their friend’s Ugly Christmas Sweater After-Party with promises of enough shots and hot guys that I’ll forget Crew Elliott exists. Not that I’ve ever really wanted to before, but maybe tonight’s my night to do something wild and crazy.

Fuck being a good girl. Look at where that’s gotten me.

Naturally, the exact second I close my eyes, my phone starts to ring and vibrate on the bar across the room, where it’s plugged into the charger. Perfect timing. With a loud groan, I throw the blanket off of me, stand up from the couch, and pad across Rory’s living room, careful not to clip my knee on the edge of that damn coffee table again—an experience I hope to never repeat after my disastrous trip to the bathroom the first night I stayed here that almost landed me in the emergency room.

“What’s up, man? You okay?” I answer after seeing Rory’s name on the caller ID.

Earlier, he’d asked if I wanted to join him and a friend at some ugly sweater party tonight, but after working four days straight at my new eight-to-five job, spending the first half of the day with Mom and Luke, and then taking Christmas presents to Caleb’s grave in the evening, I was pretty fucking exhausted. Sometimes, a night filled with SportsCenter, frozen pizza, and a bowl of Ramen is exactly what I need to find my inner Zen. Tonight was one of those nights.

“Yeah, I’m good, no need to worry,” he shouts into the phone, bass thumping loudly in the background. “Why didn’t you tell me there were more Hipster Barbie sisters, dude? They multiply every time I look over there. There are four now!”

My senses go into high alert at the mention of Hudson, and any tiredness I was previously feeling evaporates. “Look over where? What are you talking about?”

“Your girl, dude. She’s here, and she’s got three Hipster Barbies with her this time. It’s like that family hit the lottery in the looks department.”

“At the party? You’re sure it’s Hudson there?” I’m already turning on the lights and searching for my jeans, shirt, and baseball cap before he responds.

“I’m positive. I’m only on my second beer; all the names and faces haven’t started running together quite yet,” he jokes.

In the short amount of time we’ve been friends, and even shorter amount of time I’ve been crashing on his couch, I can assure you Rory rarely even brings a girl home, and if he does, he sure as shit is going to know her name and what her face looks like. He’s just not that kind of guy.

Then he adds, “But I can tell you she’s definitely not on her second beer.”

My heart slams inside my chest as I freeze, standing up tall in the middle of the room, my thoughts snowballing from bad to worse at the idea of a drunk Hudson at a party with a bunch of horny college guys. Fucking hell. “What do you mean not on her second beer? What in the fuck is she doing?”

“Dude, stop with the twenty questions. Get dressed and get your ass here to save your girl from the white Bob Marley. I’ll text you the address.”

By the time I pull up to the brick split-level, my entire body is trembling with a combination of anxiety over seeing her again and the jealousy of knowing she’s here with someone else. I know technically I have no claim to her anymore, but damn it, she’s still mine and I’m still hers. I just needed a little time to get my shit in line so I could prove to her I was worthy of her and apologize properly.

I park my car in the first empty spot I find on the street and then stalk up to the house, scanning the people outside smoking on the front porch to ensure none of them are her. Stepping inside the loud, crowded living room, my eyes sweep over the area until I find Rory perched on the armrest of one of the black leather sofas.

He motions with his hand for me to join him, and it’s not until I weave my way through the throng of people do I see he’s seated across from Juno, Dakota, and Nali. Gritting my teeth, I trudge over to them, and by the looks on all three of their faces, I immediately know his claims are true. A small part of me had been holding out hope that maybe he was mistaken and it was only someone who resembled Hudson here at the party.

“Where is she?” I bite out as I approach, not bothering with any false pleasantries. He knows why I’m here, and he knows I’m not happy. Poor guy’s had to hear me drone on and on every night for the last week about how I epically fucked up one of the best things in my life. And he knows about my recent resolve to win her back, which may be put into motion a little earlier than I intended. Like right-fucking-now early.

Tipping his head toward the back door, he grimaces as he stands up next to me. “White guy with dreads playing the acoustic. She should be close by. I told them I called you.” He warily glances down at her sisters, none of which look too pleased to see me.

Juno leaps to her feet and gets right up in my face, our noses nearly touching. “This is your last chance, Texas,” she warns, her blue eyes piercing through me. Grabbing my hand, she flips it palm-side up and shoves a key inside it. “A key to her house. Make sure she gets there safely and figure out how you’re going to make this all right. If for some reason you don’t want this—if you don’t want her—you need to walk out of here right the fuck now and never look back. You got it?”

“I got it, and I’m not leaving here without her,” I assure her before lumbering toward the back door, my mind focused on one goal.

I don’t hear any music once I’m on the back deck, nor do I see any dude with dreads, but it takes me less than a fraction of a fucking second to locate Hudson out in the center of the yard, huddled with a group of people around a small bonfire. With her back to the fire—and me—her waist-long blond hair blows wildly in the winter wind as she sits in someone else’s lap, their chests pressed against each other, her face nuzzled up in his neck. I can’t make out what his face looks like from here, but I already hate it.