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“Why would I be home with her?”

“Because she’s five days past her due date?” Tiffany says while rolling her eyes.

“The kid’s not just going to pop out, and I’m only a few minutes away. Doesn’t make sense that I can’t enjoy myself just because she needs to stay home.” He shrugs, taking a drink of his beer while I stare at him. How in the heck he got someone to sleep with him, let alone procreate with him, blows my mind. Shaking my head, I take my eyes off him and look at Tucker.

“How have you been, Tucker?”

“Good, just working a lot.”

“Are you still working for your family?” His family has owned one of the biggest plumbing companies in town for at least three generations, and last I knew, Tucker and his four brothers all worked for the family business.

“Yeah, but I moved over to the office side of things after Mom . . .” He cuts himself off, and I feel my chest get tight. I don’t know how I could forget my mom telling me that his mom has been battling cancer for a while—probably because the news came to me at a distance, and although I’ve always liked Tucker, and I of course feel horrible for his mom, I didn’t think much about it.

“I’m really sorry. How is she doing?”

“Okay. The treatments are brutal, but they seem to be working.”

“That’s good news.”

“It is,” he says softly, and I remember why I liked him so much and why I never really understood how he could be best friends with JR, who has always come across as self-centered, aggressive, and overly flirtatious.

“Does anyone want another drink?” JR asks, and all of us girls shake our heads no. “Aww, come on, it’s Saturday. I’ll get us all a shot of tequila.”

“I haven’t given in to peer pressure since I was fourteen or taken a shot of tequila since I was twenty-two,” Tiffany tells him, then adds, “plus we’re going to be leaving as soon as the game is over.”

“You guys are lame,” he mutters before looking at Tucker. “What about you? Do you want another beer?”

“Can’t, I have plans with Whit when she gets off work.”

“Wait.” He leans forward with his eyes locked on Tucker. “You’re leaving?”

“I told you I could only get one drink.”

“Yeah, but I thought you were being a little bitch as usual,” he says, and Tucker’s cheeks tinge with pink. God, JR is such a dick.

“Who’s Whit?” I ask Tucker, changing the subject, hoping that JR will get up and walk away with no one paying attention to him.

“She’s some fat chick that works at the grocery store,” JR says.

“Uncool, dude,” Tucker says while I hiss.

“Seriously?”

“What? She is fat.” He looks around the table like he expects any one of us to act like we agree or think what he’s saying is okay.

“You’re fucking disgusting, you know that, right?” I bite out, and he leans away from me, holding up his hands.

“Jeez, calm the fuck down. I didn’t say she was ugly; I just said she’s fat.”

Without thinking, without a second thought or a word, I toss what is left of my martini right in his stupid face.

“What the fuck,” he sputters, getting to his feet while wiping his hands down his face. As I get to my feet, too, with my heart beating hard, I see him look at the table and can read his thoughts as his eyes land on Tiffany’s half-full Diet Coke and vodka.

“Do . . .” I start to tell him not to even think about it when he begins reaching for the glass, but before he can even touch it with the tips of his fingers, he’s gone. His big body is being hauled across the room by the back of his sweater, his feet scrambling to keep up with how quickly he’s moving. At first, I think that my brothers saw what happened and came over to rescue me like they have had to do more than once over the years, but it’s not Gunner or Kolter—it’s Wyatt.

“Oh my god,” Tiffany whispers as Wyatt bodily tosses JR in the direction of the door like he’s no heavier than a rag doll. Stumbling, he almost falls over but manages to catch himself before he lands on his ass.

“Get the fuck out.”