The rumble of the BMW engine cut the night when Dean parked in front of Malone’s. Logan in the car seat, laughing at some stupid joke. Garrett and Tucker chatted excitedly in the back seat, full of Friday night energy.

But Dean was kind of quiet. The noise around seemed muffled compared to the confusion inside his head.

The cell phone weighed on the jacket pocket.

You were just Hanna’s best friend. That was supposed to be it. But after that night—drunken kisses, low laughs in the car seat, your fingers intertwined in his as if they had been doing this for years—you were there. Trapped in his mind like a song impossible to forget.

He stared at the screen for a second, his thumb hovering.

And before he could censor himself, he sent:

”At Malone’s with the guys. Come?”

Simple. Casual. But his heart beat a little too fast for someone who pretended he didn’t care that much.