Page 82 of Top Shelf

He turns, grins, and throws his arms out like he’s welcoming a long-lost brother. “Valehurst’s golden boy! Glad you came.”

“You kidding? Wouldn’t miss this bash for the world,” I say, pulling him into a quick back-pat hug. “Hell of a game.”

“You mean hell of a save, with ten seconds left on the clock?” he shoots back, smirking.

I laugh. “We’ll get you next time.”

“Dream on.” He glances past me. “Your boy over there going to stab someone, or is that just his resting murder face?”

I glance at Lucian, who’s watching a pair of guys argue over beer pong like they’re about to throw hands. “Not sure.” I laugh. “Didn’t quite get his fill of violence on the ice tonight, so I’d probably give anyone you pass a heads-up to stay clear.”

Ethan snorts. “Good to know. Grab another drink. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the guys. We’re having a bonfire later; are you in?”

“We might still be around,” I respond vaguely, casting a look Silas’s way. Loud spaces aren’t his thing, and I can already see him getting twitchy as he glares at some jock who accidentally knocks into him on his way past.

Ethan claps me on the shoulder before disappearing into the noise, already shouting at someone about a beer pong rematch. I hang back, letting the music wash over me. Bass rattling the floorboards. Laughter rising in waves.

Lucian’s still perched against the kitchen countertop, eyeing up anyone who comes within ten feet of him like they’re a personal threat. He lifts his beer to his mouth and drains it in one go, jaw clenched. Some guy, clearly drunk off his face, stumbles into him, and Lucian goes on the attack.

“Touch me again,” he hisses, “and I’ll rearrange your teeth.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if the guy pissed himself as he scurries off as quickly as his inebriated equilibrium will allow him.

I arch a brow. “Really, Luc?”

Giving me a deadpan look, he shrugs.

I spot Silas standing a few feet away, his back against the wall and hood drawn up. He hasn’t moved since we set foot in the kitchen, except to step farther from the crowd. His eyes flick across the party like he’s tracking something only he can see—checking every doorway, every alley, every pocket of darkness in the corner of each room.

I make my way over to him.

“You good?”

He doesn’t answer, of course, but he does give a barely there shake of his head. It’s enough for me to know something’s off. That he’s feeling the claustrophobia especially strongly tonight. I could ask him why, ask him what’s wrong, but I know from experience that those sorts of questions only hinder. So instead, I lean against the wall beside him, our shoulders brushing so he knows I’m here. Silently, I watch the crowd. A group of girls nearby scream with laughter as one of them spills her drink down the front of another’s shirt. Two guys start wrestling in the middle of the living room. Couples make out in dark corners. As expected, all the drunken, hormone-fueled goings on of young adults whose frontal lobes haven’t fully developed play out before us.

Lucian hits the wall beside me with a thump. His jaw ticks with annoyance. “Some sophomore just tried to pick a fight with me,” he scoffs. “Said I was glaring at his girlfriend.”

“Were you?”

“She was standing in the way of the alcohol.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m bored.”

Silas shifts on my other side, his posture tight as piano wire. I glance down at his hands, catching the movement from the corner of my eye as he flexes his fingers, then clenches them into fists. His drink remains untouched, and without having to ask him, I know he’s reached his limit for tonight. Draining the last of my beer, I set the empty bottle on a nearby surface.

“Let’s bounce,” I say, clapping Lucian on the shoulder.

He doesn’t argue.

Neither of them do.

We came. We drank. We played nice.

Now it’s time to go.

We take the long way back to the hotel—down through the side streets lined with picket-fenced homes. It’s quieter here, except for the music still pulsing in the distance and the wind threading through the trees. It’s late enough now that the sidewalks are mostly empty.