Cole woke up with a wince, gingerly touching his face with his hands, certain that at some point of the night, a horse had kicked him in the head. He cracked his eyes open and realized what a mistake that was when the sun filtering in through the blinds seared right through to his brain. His mouth was sand dry, but Cole was pretty certain that his stomach would reject any water he tried to consume.

That horse that had kicked him had a name: hangover. And that hangover was a debt Cole would joyfully pay for the epic bar crawl that had unfolded over the course of last night.

He tried to remember, struggling to fit the pieces together in his mind. Jason was in most of the blurry snapshots he still had of the night. The entire premise, going out on a Sunday to celebrate Cole’s completion of his final mission as a Navy SEAL, had been a little ludicrous. The bars shouldn’t have been as crowded as they were, people cheering and buying him drinks at every juncture. The more he thought about it, the more Cole suspected that Jason went through his extensive list of contacts and bribed people, in some way, to be out last night.

Going out to one bar had turned into going out to a couple. Cole vaguely remembered it feeling something like a parade, marching around the dark, D.C. streets, people trailing after him and Jason like an extended entourage of strangers. That was one thing about Jason, though. People just tended to recognize what a one-man party looked like, and that was Cole’s best friend. Jason had the uncanny ability to make a good time out of anything. Quick to make friends; quicker, still, to amass lovers.

And anyone in even a distant orbit of Jason benefitted from his charisma. Cole flipped through the pictures of different women kissing him on the cheek, making elaborate toasts to him, giving him their numbers, making him promise he’d give them a call if he needed absolutely anything. Jason was there, in the background, egging them on.

Sometimes, Cole was pretty sure the only thing Jason cared more about than the Navy was ensuring Cole had a female body to warm his bed.

Grimacing, Cole patted the other side of his mattress. The sheets were twisted up, probably thanks to a restless, drunken sleep, but the pillow was cool. He didn’t think he’d towed anyone home with him last night. Pretty sure.

One series of snapshots was completely missing from his brain. How did he get home? He racked his memories for the backseat of a cab or car service, or a long, meandering, staggering walk back to his apartment, but there was nothing. It was a little disconcerting, but it was difficult to be really worried about the lack of answers. He was home, wasn’t he? Maybe Jason would have some insight.

Cole rolled over to reach for his phone to call his friend when the doorbell rang.

Leaving bed was a challenge, the carpet underfoot tipping upward a little less than pleasantly, the headache pounding in full force. But Cole pushed through and made it to the door. It was almost pathetic, the way he was laid up by a night of hard drinking. He’d certainly survived tougher situations with more dire injuries than a few too many shots of tequila.

Now, though, he supposed a hangover was his toughest situation. Or at least it would be until he found a new job.

Cole checked the peephole on the door and sighed.

“Open up,” Jason cajoled. “I know you’re there.”

“Can’t a guy get some sleep?” Cole asked, opening the door anyway.

Jason winced. “You look like hell, man.”

“You come to my apartment, wake me up, and insult me?” Cole laughed, swinging the door shut again, but Jason shoved his foot in before he could manage it.

“Hey, I came all the way out here on a humanitarian mission,” he said, waving a device through the crack of the door.

“That’s my phone,” Cole said, blinking with recognition, opening the door again. “Where’d you get that?”

“You left it at the bar, dummy, when you disappeared,” Jason said, handing it back to him.

“I don’t remember getting home.”

“I got nothing for you, man. You were there one minute, chatting it up, belle of the ball, and then you were gone.”

“Well, I still have my wallet. And my dignity.”

Jason laughed. “That’s the biggest goddamn stretch I’ve ever heard.”

Cole lifted his chin. “At least, I think I have my wallet. I haven’t found my pants yet. Really hope they’re in here somewhere.” And that he hadn’t wandered home missing his pants. He eyed Jason. “Aren’t those the same clothes you were wearing last night?”

Jason grinned as he straightened an imaginary tie at his throat. “They are indeed. I’m flattered that you were paying attention.”

“They’re wrinkled and they smell like stale beer.”

“Don’t be bitter that I rescued your phone for you—or jealous that I got laid last night.”

“Well done,” Cole said, shaking his head. “What number does that even put you at?”

“A gentleman never keeps notches on his belt,” Jason said, aloof.

“There’s probably not a belt in this world big enough.”

Jason gave him a cheeky wink. “For the best, really. If I kept track of them, someday, some lucky lady will ask me about my number, and I’d be forced to lie to her.”

“What lucky lady?” Cole scoffed. “You’re telling me you’re looking forward to your future retirement from the free market?”

“Never.” Jason flashed his gleaming white teeth in a somewhat manic grin. “And you’d be a fool to give it up, too.”

“Did I say that?”

“I noticed that you didn’t take anyone home with you last night.” Jason peered around him. “Unless there’s someone hiding under the very flat sheets on your bed.”

“Mind your own business.”

“Cole, you sabotaged yourself. Last night was a sure thing. Handsome SEAL like yourself, back stateside after his very last top-secret mission. Think of all those girls out there willing to welcome you home.”

“I think if we can blame anything sabotaging the plans you had for me, it’s tequila.” Cole didn’t have to amp up his shudder for his friend. His shoulders did that of their own accord. He wouldn’t be able to drink tequila for weeks.

“My plans?” Jason laughed and shook his head. “Are you going to stand there in front of me and tell me that you didn’t want to get laid last night? Seriously? How long has it been? I know you couldn’t have been getting any on that last mission. I know that shit went sideways.”

“I guess my brain wanted to get drunk more than it wanted sex,” Cole said, riding out a sick little wave that was either his stomach urging him back to bed or guilt at lying to his best friend.

“Fair enough,” Jason reasoned, cutting his eyes at him. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need any help hooking up with anybody before I went on my next mission.”

Cole swore. “You’re doing another one?”

“Hey, man, you’re the one retiring from the Navy, not me.” Jason laughed. “Like you’re some kind of old man.”

“When do you leave?” Cole asked, ignoring the jibe. He was only a year older than Jason, but it felt like he’d been living on borrowed time and luck with the SEAL missions for longer than he should’ve. It was a hell of a thing to start feeling mortal all of a sudden. He wouldn’t have wished it on Jason, but at the same time, he wanted his friend to be safe.

“First thing in the morning,” Jason said, sounding almost cheerful. “Hey, don’t give me that face. I’ll be back before you know it, being your expert wingman.”

“I thought I was your expert wingman.”

“And that’s why we’re best friends.” Jason clapped Cole on the back hard enough to sting.

“I think I was probably the better wingman, though, last night.” Cole grinned. “Seeing as how you’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes and I woke up this morning alone.”

“Is it going to be like that, keeping score? I hope I don’t have to remind you just how many women I’ve led to you over the years. How, no matter where you were in the world, you never had to sleep alone.”

“I’m not talking about all those times,” Cole said, mostly because he didn’t really like to, not anymore. It was nothing against the women. They’d been great, exactly what he needed at the time, but he’d changed since then. Though he wasn’t about to admit any of that to Jason, who’d never let him hear the end of it. “I’m talking about last night. You are derelict in your wingman duties. Just admit that I’m the best, and we can let this go.”

“You don’t need my services as a wingman,” Jason said, shaking his head at him. “Women just throw themselves at you, Cole. Always have. Always will, if Ivy’s any indication.”

Cole blinked. “Ivy?”

Jason pointed at Cole’s phone. “Seems like she’s awfully interested in talking to you.”

Cole looked down at his phone and swiped at the display. The screen flickered once and then went black. “Dammit. Battery’s dead.”

“Who knows?” Jason mused. “Maybe good things will come to those who wait.”

“What, for me to plug my phone in?”

“Maybe this Ivy will be right up your alley.” Jason took a moment to check his own phone. “Hell. I’ve got to get going. A lot to do today. Hearts to break, and all that.”

“Take care of yourself,” Cole said.

“Always. I’ll be in touch.” Jason held out his hand and Cole shook it, solemn, before yanking in his friend for a hug.

“I’m serious,” Cole insisted.

“Me, too.” Jason huffed a little. “Goddamn, man. You smell like the bottom of a bottle of tequila.”

“You’re a little ripe, yourself.” Cole released his friend. “Hope you’re planning on running through a shower before you ship out.”

“Planning on doing it with a little female company, too,” Jason said with a leer. “Just wanted to get your phone back to you beforehand.”

“Yeah, well, thanks. Could’ve charged it for me.”

“My good deeds have limits. You got any plans today?”

“Nurse this hangover.”

“Know what’ll help with that? Another beer.”

“I’m thinking about a nap.”

“Or a good fuck.”

Cole smiled. “Still pretty intent on that nap.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Cole watched Jason walk down the hallway toward the building’s exit, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time he saw his best friend.