Everyone was hungover the next morning.

I woke around nine, washed up a little, pulled on pajama pants and a sweatshirt, then trudged out to the kitchen. Mason wasn’t far behind, wearing just his sweatpants that dipped deliciously low on his hips. I made coffee as he started up the stove. Bread was in the toaster when Taylor and Logan joined. They took their coffee with smiles of thanks, then sat behind the kitchen table. They moved to the farthest seats. When the toast was ready, Mason put it on a plate and added it to the table. Butter, knives, and a handful of empty plates went next.

Without a word spoken, Logan started buttering the toast. He passed the finished pieces to Taylor, and by that time Courtney and Grace had joined us. They paused, their eyes wide and lingering on Mason, before gulping and averting their gaze. They sat, and Taylor gave them the first pieces of toast.

I gave them coffee too, then started another pot.

Mason began making bacon and eggs. I couldn’t move away from him, not even if I tried to force myself. After fidgeting while the coffee was brewing, I ended up leaning against the counter and resting my head against his upper arm. It bulged under my touch. My hand rubbed down his back, ending and curling in on his sweatpants. It was my anchor, and I loved the feel of it.

Mason dropped a soft kiss to the top of my head, then went back to cooking. When the eggs and bacon were done, he placed them on a plate, and they went onto the table along with everything else. He came back and continued cooking, and I resumed resting my head against his upper arm.

Courtney and Grace took their turn. They scooped up the food and plated it, passing the plates back to Logan and Taylor, who were nibbling on their own pieces of toast now.

Heather shuffled in, yawning big, and she waved a hand to everyone. One of her eyes was still closed. She passed me by, going to sit next to Taylor. I held out a cup of coffee. She took it on the way there, not pausing a second, and took her seat.

Courtney put a piece of bacon on a plate. Grace stopped eating hers, and put an egg on the plate. Logan added two pieces of toast, and Taylor slid the plate right in front of Heather. She smiled, her eyes sweeping over everyone in the room.

Nate was the last. He paused in the doorway, a hand rubbing at his stomach, and he grinned at everyone. He frowned at Mason, noting his shirtless state, and shook his head. Logan snorted from the table, but that was the only response. Nate came over to hug me, then dropped down in the closest seat to Logan.

Mason added more food to the table.

I finished the last pot of coffee, pouring two new mugs for Mason and myself.

Logan, smirking, pulled off his shirt and tossed it across to Mason. It was caught and it was pulled on, and now the shirtless one was Logan. Nate stopped, his eyes skirting between the brothers, and shrugged. He pulled his own shirt off, winking at Courtney, before hunching back over his plate.

When Mason and I sat, our food was already waiting for us.

Everyone ate and thirty minutes passed. Not one word was spoken. I held Mason’s hand under the table the entire time.

Best. Breakfast. Ever.

* * *

Two hours later

I was sitting on the curb, a pumpkin on the street between my feet, a large carving knife in my right hand. Heather was next to me, holding the same thing. I brought my knife down, embedding it deep into the gourd, and I cut away the stem. Yanking it up, I cleaned off the first of the pumpkin’s guts.

Heather grunted, her hand covered in pumpkin goo. “Why did we get stuck doing the damned pumpkins?”

I went back to hacking at the thing. “Courtney and Grace went to their apartment, and the guys are going to finish decorating that haunted house for tonight. I don’t know where Taylor is.” A second thrust, and I had the first eye out. I paused. “Should I hollow it out first, then cut the face?”

Heather stopped, half her pumpkin’s insides on the street between us. She considered it, then shrugged. “Makes sense, but is there a wrong way to gut a pumpkin?”

“If we gut ourselves first?”

“Touché.” She pointed her carving knife at me. “Got any homicidal tendencies I should know about?”

I grinned. “I was a dark hooker last night.”

“You were the angel of darkness. Different thing.”

“You’re right. That would’ve meant homicidal tendencies.” I set down the knife and plunged my hand in. “No tendencies that I can think of, although . . .” I paused.

“What?”

“I think someone slipped something into my drink at the nightclub.”

“What?!” She sat up. “Did you tell Mason?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but I was fine. I downplayed it a bit.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Did you have any side effects from it?”

“I was hallucinating. Kept thinking I saw some guy in a black robe and mask.”

“Mask? Like a Scream type of mask?”

“Kinda. The face wasn’t pronounced. There were no eyes, nose, or mouth. It was just white.”

“That’s freaky as fuck.”

I nodded. “Not arguing with that.” I scooped out another handful of seeds and guts. “Am I weird in feeling like this is cathartic?”

She snorted. Her hand went back in and came out, covered in the same orange insides. “I’m imagining this is Channing.” She paused again. “Maybe I’m the one with the homicidal tendencies?”

I grinned. “You do seem to be enjoying that.”

She shrugged, her hand plunging back inside. We stopped talking after that. The pumpkins were cleaned out. We set them aside to start on two more pumpkins. Once they were all done, we hosed down the street and carried them inside. We were close to finishing the faces for two of the pumpkins when a stampede of feet came up from the basement.

The guys popped out, arms full of costumes.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Logan asked at the same time, his eyes on the pumpkins, “What are you doing?”

Heather pointed at the one in front of her. “This is self-explanatory.” She waved the knife at them. “Your turn.”

“Oh.” Logan looked down at the costumes in his hands. He said to me, “We gotta take a bunch of these to the haunted house. We left most of the girly ones for you guys. Are you two doing the same costumes as last night?”

Heather and I shared a look. We hadn’t discussed it. Heather shrugged, going back to cutting out a tooth. “We’ll figure it out.”

Logan paused, watching me. “This is okay, right?”

I didn’t know why it wouldn’t be. “Yeah. We’ll figure something out with whatever we have here. It’s no problem.”

“Okay.” He started outside, leaving the door open. Nate flicked two fingers up in a salute, ducking out behind him.

Mason was last, and he came over to me first. “Hey.” He dropped a light kiss to my lips. “I’ll see you later tonight?” He glanced to Heather before kissing me again. “You’ll be okay?”

Heather let out a sigh, put her knife down, and muttered, “I need a cigarette.”

“Was that me?” Mason asked once she was gone.

“Channing broke up with her.”

He lifted his head up two inches. “Are you serious?”

“And he’s coming tonight to see you.”

“Fuck.” He looked to where Heather had slipped out the back door. Her back was leaning against the patio doors, the cigarette already lit. “That’s harsh.”

“Hence why we were so drunk last night.”

His eyes darkened. Remember our own rough patch. I’d gotten drunk a couple of those nights, but I knew he’d gone on a bigger binge than me. I felt him starting to pull away and caught the front of his shirt. “I love you.”

His eyebrows dipped together. “I love you.” His lips tried to show me too. When we were done, a few heavy-breathing seconds later, he cursed under his breath. “What are the chances we can send Heather in my place?”

I grinned against his lips. “So she can decorate with Logan?”

He nodded, grinning right back. “The two will yell at each other the whole time.”

“Pretty much.” I frowned and looked around him. “Where’s Taylor? Did she leave after breakfast?”

Mason shrugged. “I don’t know. Logan never said anything. I assumed she was with you.”

I shook my head, my stomach twisting. I stepped back, but my clean hand was still on his chest. It felt right, leaving it there, like he was anchoring me. I glanced around again, but I knew she wouldn’t have magically appeared in the last few seconds.

“I’ll call her.” I nodded at the pumpkins. “We’re going to set these out with tealights before we leave tonight.”

He rubbed his hand up and down my arm. “What are you guys doing today? We’ll be at the house the whole time. Logan’s gone all out with this party.”

I shrugged. We did have all day. I didn’t have classes on Fridays, and Heather was up for the whole weekend. We weren’t the type to do the salon. Saloon, yes. Salon, no. “I don’t know. We’ll figure something out.” I pressed myself up, bringing my lips fully against his again. Logan would be yelling any second. “Have fun. I’ll see you tonight.”

I could almost count it down.

Three.

Two.

And on ‘one,’ I pointed to the door at the exact instant Logan shouted.

Mason laughed, and pressed one last kiss to my forehead. “Okay. Love you. Be safe. Have fun. And if you start drinking early, call. I’ll be sober. I’ll come and pick you up.”

I flashed him a grin. “Bye, and all of that to you too, except the last part.”

He laughed, going out the door, and right as it closed, I yelled, “I won’t be sober tonight.”

“Looking forward to it!” he yelled back, his words muffled through the wood.

I knocked on the patio glass, and Heather turned. She nodded, putting her cigarette out. “Your perfect soulmate left?”

There was no bite to her words, but I frowned. “You and Channing will be fine. You know that, right? Your breakups are never permanent.”

She picked up her knife again, pulling the last pumpkin in front of her. The knife was raised and poised, and she said, “I don’t know about this time.” And she brought it down with a vehemence she hadn’t had earlier.

I went back to cutting mine, but looked over my shoulder one last time.

Where’d Taylor go?