BREN
Jordan was up when I was grabbing coffee the next morning. I saw him outside, a mug in front of him, and he was staring off at the bonfire that still had a little smoke coming from it. I grabbed my own cup, checked the time, and since I had a few minutes before I had to leave, I headed outside.
“Hey.”
The morning air was crisp and chilled.
Jordan looked over, bags under his eyes. His head inclined and he raised his hand a tiny bit off the table. “Morning.”
They partied late last night. We heard them, though they weren’t too loud. What I definitely knew I’d heard late into the night or early into the morning was someone giggling.
I asked, “Did you have an overnight guest?”
Jordan went back to staring at the bonfire, a whole troubled look coming over him. He had on a sweatshirt,
