“Well, I want your silky chocolate hair,” Jen says with the same measure of smile. “So I say we trade.”

I decide to stay out of that conversation the more it begins to veer off into chick stuff. I turn back to Tate, who’s holding a six-pack of Coronas. He holds them out to me.

“You got a fridge?” he asks.

“No, I use an Igloo ice chest out back,” I joke, and take the cardboard six-pack dangling from his index finger. He follows me into the kitchen.

Before long, we’re all in the living room catching up.

“Yeah, Caleb is doin’ hard time now,” Tate says from the love seat, where he’s sitting with Jen. “He was sentenced to eighteen years, but we’re hopeful he’ll get out on parole long before that.”

“Damn, man, that’s a long time,” I say, and squeeze Bray’s knee next to me. I glance at her, testing the waters of the topic, but she’s OK with it, and I knew she would be. Because she’s been doing great in just about every aspect of her life since her attempted suicide.

Her soft blue eyes smile at me, then she looks at Tate and Jen. “That is really sad. I only served about a year, so I can’t imagine what’s Caleb’s going through.”

Tate shakes his head, clearly still dejected about his brother being back in prison. He always will be. “He’ll be all right. In fact, I think he’s probably doing better now than his first time around.” A faint smile appears.

“Why’s that?” I ask.

Tate’s smile gets bigger. “Well, three months after he went in, he got a visit from his ex-girlfriend, Cera.”

“No shit?” Bray says, unbelieving.

Tate nods. “Yep. She visits him every week.”

“They’re back together?” Bray asks.

I can see the happiness in her face over this news. She had told me about the conversation she had with Caleb outside the motel that night in Baton Rouge. I think it really hurt her to know that Caleb loved this girl so much that he would do anything for her, yet she didn’t seem to believe in his innocence after a five-year relationship.

Jen smiles hugely and winds her fingers through the back of Tate’s short hair, her arm propped on the back of the couch. “Yeah, they’re back together. I knew they would be eventually. She talked to me about him all the damn time.” She rolls her eyes as if it had annoyed her, but it’s obvious that it hadn’t much. “I just wanted to stay out of their problems. But I’m glad she came around. A little earlier and she could’ve spared him the prison sentence, but I guess better late than never.”

“That’s awesome,” Bray says, bright-eyed.

“Yeah, it is,” Tate says. “I think Caleb is going to be okay. At least for now. We’ll have to see how long she can keep this up with him being behind bars.”

“Well, don’t think about that,” Bray says. “Stay positive.”

Tate nods, having to agree that’s the best way to go about it.

“So anything new with you two?” I ask. “No babies or engagement rings?”

Jen’s nose wrinkles. “Uh, no,” she points. “And no,” she points again a little to the left.

Tate laughs and raises his back from the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’ll never get married. Already established that. Babies, on the other hand”—he grins and Jen sneers—“I’d like to have one someday.”

“Well it’s not gonna be by me,” Jen comes back. “No babies are coming out of this body. Ever.”

Tate raises a brow and chews on the inside of his lip arrogantly and says, “Well as long as you’re okay with me stickin’ my dick in some other chick for the sole purpose of making a baby, then I’m good to go.”

Jen presses her front teeth together and smacks him across the arm.

Bray and I just laugh under our breaths. Some things never change.

Tate throws his head back, laughing, and then mumbles to me, “She’ll give in one day,” as if he was only halfway trying not to let Jen hear, but he knows she did.

Jen shakes her head and smiles.

“What about you?” Tate asks us, and I notice him glance at our hands, looking for rings.

“Someday,” Bray answers. “We thought about getting married this year, but we’ve decided to wait. At least a couple more years.”

“Well when you do, I better get an invitation,” Tate says.

“Didn’t take you for the wedding type,” I say with laughter in my voice.

Jen pats him on the leg and purses her lips. “Anyone’s wedding but his own,” she says.

There’s another knock at the door. I get up to answer it.

“Elias!” Grace says with her arms held out for me.

I hug her as Bray, Tate, and Jen come up behind us.

“Oh my God, Grace, I’ve missed the shit out of you!” Bray says, squeezing her, apparently not worried about wrinkling her clothes this time.

“Me too!” Grace says, stepping back, clasping Bray’s hands with hers. She looks Bray up and down. “Damn, you are rockin’ that dress.”

More chick stuff. I step to the side and welcome the dark-haired guy taller than me by at least two inches with tattoos down both arms and one peeking from the collar of his shirt. He looks like a rocker guy who just walked out of an Abercrombie and Fitch store dressed in casual jeans and a light-gray collared shirt.

“Come on in,” I tell him, and he and Grace move farther into the room.

Grace turns to the guy and says, “This is my boyfriend, Knox.” Then she points to all of us. “Elias. Bray. Tate and Jen.”

Knox nods and smiles subtly, burying his hands in his pockets.

We spend the next half hour catching up (and we talk less about Caleb, since Grace doesn’t seem comfortable talking about him with Knox being here).

Finally, Bray’s sister arrives at the door solo. She’s dressed up much like Bray: wearing a long-sleeved knit dress and a pair of boots. And she looks nervous.

“Come in and meet everybody,” Bray says, looping her arm through Rian’s. Bray then introduces Rian to everyone.

“It’s great to finally meet you all,” Rian says. “Brayelle has talked a lot about you.”

Bray and I exchange looks across the room, and we’re probably thinking the same thing. These were the people we had been on the run with, so Rian doesn’t exactly think of them as innocent friends who we just met at the library or someplace. But Rian, staying true to her word to always be there for Bray, treats them all with respect and even seems to be enjoying herself.