I yawned and stretched before responding, “I’ll jump in the shower soon and take care of my tat, it's not too bad.” I smiled warmly, and patted the bed next to me. “Did you sleep on the couch?”

Climbing under the covers next to me, he nodded. “Yeah, we got pretty lit last night.”

I curled up into his arms, nuzzling into his bare chest, breathing in his warm, sweet skin. We shifted until we were in the perfect, comfortable position. “Yeah, I don’t remember much after the pizza got here and we had a couple of beers.”

Walker chuckled a little in my ear. “You didn’t miss much. You passed out, pizza in hand, after you made us take a few shots of Jack. So I brought you up here, held you for a little while you cried in your sleep. Once you stopped, I went back downstairs and slept there, not wanting to be too far if you needed me again.”

I let my head fall into the crook of his shoulder and neck, breathing in his amazing scent of cologne, beer, and sun baked skin again; it was still fantastically intoxicating. “You’re amazing,” I whispered right next to his cheek, letting my lips graze the light stubble of his jaw line. I closed my eyes and then kissed him quickly, before cuddling back down in his arms. I was so comfortable while he held me, the anger of my conversation with my mother, and the terrible heartache faded.

We dozed off for about an hour before a phone’s vibrations woke me up again. This time it was Walker’s. I looked at the phone on my nightstand and saw it was Mitch, so without thinking about the time or how it might seem, I answered the phone, trying to not wake Walker.

“Hey Mitch, its Mags. What’s up?” I gently slid out of Walker’s embrace to finish the call from my bathroom, trying to be polite.

“Mags? Is Walker at your place this early? I thought he got there later on Sundays.” His voice was sterner than I was expecting but I brushed it off. Walker and I were platonic, innocent friends; Mitch was the last person I thought would ever suspect otherwise.

“We drank some more after you dropped us off. Walker slept on the couch and is still sleeping.” I figured I shouldn’t volunteer where, that might look bad. “I can tell him you called if you want, or is there something you need?”

“Um, can I come over? I don’t want to be alone. Y’all are my best friends. I kind of need you.” His voice broke off, becoming more and more desperate with every word. I figured it was not the time to start asking questions, Mitch would explain everything when he got over. “Yeah of course, you don’t even have to ask. See you soon. I’ll make us breakfast or something.”

“Okay, uh, thanks Mags. See you soon.”

“Of course. Drive safe.”

I hung up the phone, creeping into my room again, hoping to be quiet enough not to wake Walker. I was startled when his voice broke the silence from behind me while I was attempting to sneak out the door.

“Sneaking off on me? I see how it is.” His sexy half grin complimented his accusing raised eyebrow perfectly. “I knew holding you would be too good to last.” His face was hellishly playful as his nostrils flared and his eyes darkened fixating on my entire body.

Slowing rolling my hips, locking my eyes with his, I stroke back over to him curled up in my sheets, I almost forgot about Mitch, our unspoken rule to be platonic, and everything else in the world. In that moment I was so attracted to him, my body ached, a feeling I hadn’t had in what seemed like forever. Then, in a split second, his face turned questioning, as he pointed to his phone in my hand.

Sheepishly, I looked down at it, letting my smoldering desire cool and told him about my conversation with Mitch, explaining my reason for trying to sneak out without disturbing his peaceful sleep. “I know how much you enjoy my bed.” I felt my cheeks flare red, remembering my almost sex dream I had just hours before. “I didn’t want to deprive you of comfortable sleep.”

He stretched his arms out to hold me again, but I declined. “Mitch will be here any moment. He thinks you’re on the couch. Get your ass downstairs.” His shoulders sank as he tried to pout, but he couldn’t argue. The line had to be drawn by one of us all of time; it just usually was not me who needed to do it.

He got up and stretched quickly, his bare torso flexed beautifully in the sun rays beaming in from my extra-large window. My mind started flipping through all of the things I wanted to do to his body and everything mine longed to feel him do and I decided to take a shower, a cold one, for that matter.

When I got downstairs after my cool down session, I walked into a very solemn scene of Walker sitting next to Mitch on the couch with his hand on Mitch’s shoulder. Mitch’s head was cradled in his hands. Two shot glasses were empty next to the open bottle of the amber liquid that saves all of us when we need it. I fluttered down on the other side of Mitch, resting my head on his back, breathing slowly. “Little brother? What’s wrong?”

I could feel Mitch’s shallow sobs echoing through his body. Walker spoke for him. “He caught Eva cheating this morning.” Walker’s voice was stern and cold; a serpent’s hiss from a forked tongue dripping with poison could not have been more evil nor angry.

I sat holding Mitch’s trembling body. Eva was Mitch’s stepmother, who had raised him from the time he was an infant. Mitch’s mother died during childbirth from hemorrhaging. Eva was her nurse, and helped put Buck, Mitch’s father, back together after the death. Buck and Mitch really cared about Eva; she was kind of the glue that kept their little family together.

“Last night after I dropped you guys off I decided to head over to Dad’s instead of driving the extra twenty minutes to my place…” His voice trailed off, getting more cold and shallow when he finally continued. “Apparently Dad had to work the third shift at the yard last night and Eva had…company.” That last word was soaked in disdain as it fell hard into the room.

Even though it was ten in the morning, Walker filled up the two shot glasses again and handed one to Mitch and the other to me, coolly frowning and pursing his lips. “I think y’all could use these.” After I took the glass, Walker leaned behind Mitch’s back and brushed my cheeks off. I jumped at his touch; I hadn’t even realized I had been crying right along with Mitch.

We raised our glasses together, letting them clank, and the liquid washed away a twinge of the edge of the sorrow engulfing us. Goose bumps spread over my body while I cringed. I guess my body wasn’t expecting that one this early.

Standing, worried the whiskey was going to come right back up from my empty stomach, I realized we all needed some breakfast. It had been a crazy twenty-four hours and none of us had eaten or slept properly, for various reasons.

“I’m going to make us some breakfast. Want to come into the kitchen, guys?” They both got up and joined me, bringing the bottle along, sitting at the table, fury screaming from their tone and Mitch’s fits occasionally slamming down on the oak table. I started off by brewing some dark roast, making all of us Irish coffees to continue with the theme of the morning. A sense of relief came over me to be taking care of someone else for a change, not that I was happy about the reason for the guys to be at my house in their pissed and saddened state. It was almost a relief to not be the center of the pity but the giver of advice and warm words.

I put out a colossal platter of French toast, bacon, and a whole pitcher full of Irish brew onto the table and we all dug in, even though it took a little bit of coaxing to get Mitch to eat. The smell of cinnamon, maple and bacon grease was the perfect combination to make anyone’s stomach grumble.

We sat in silence, eating, not making eye contact, until Mitch finally broke the silence. “How the fuck am I going to tell my dad?” Walker and I froze, slack-mouthed, not sure what to say. There was no good way to go about telling someone that their angel had burnt wings. I reached across the light wood table, grabbing both his hands in mine. “Mitch, you know you have to tell him. Why don’t you ask him to come over here? Or we can go with you?”

Walker and Mitch both shook their heads in unison. Mitch’s words were quick to shoot down my ideas. “Dad has pride, Mags. It’d hurt more if he knew he wasn’t the first to know.”

Walker looked at Mitch, seeming to ponder if he should ask the next question, but it came out anyway. “So what actually happened last night? The whole story; maybe we can come up with the best way to break it to him instead of: ‘Hey Buck, Eva’s a whore and you need to leave her ass.’”

Mitch nodded. He started in telling us about him pulling up to his parents' home and there being a dark blue Cadillac that Mitch recognized in the driveway, belonging to Buck's business partner. Assuming that his folks were entertaining their friends, Mitch didn’t think anything of it and snuck in through the side door to not disturb the party. It wasn’t unusual for Mitch to drop by and crash in his old room from time to time, so this was nothing new for him. When Mitch got to the top of the stairs he heard his stepmother giggling and the low tone of a lustful man’s voice coming from the guest room.

“At least they had the fucking decency to use a different room than Dad’s. When I walked up to the door, in a rage I kicked it open, breaking it in half to find Eva butt ass naked on her damn knees like a ten-cent hooker.” At that point of the story Mitch was pacing from the kitchen to the living room, shouting at the top of his lungs.

We determined that, even though the story was going to hurt, it needed to be told fully and truthfully. Buck was being lied to by his wife, it wasn’t fair for his son to lie too. Walker felt it was for the best if they got him while Buck was still at work. So they left, Walker driving Mitch to give his father some of the worst news a son had to reveal. They both said their goodbyes and thanked me for the breakfast. I sent them on their way with travel cups full of plain black coffee, hoping it would help mask the smell of yesterday’s and the morning’s beverage consumption.