And he doesn’t. He follows right alongside me in his car at an agonizingly slow pace and starts talking. “I’ve been thinking, we should invite the guys and Evelyn to our first show. Make a big party out of it. Luca probably will come up with an excuse but the rest of us can have fun without him. You know… I think there’s something there between Evelyn and Garrett. I can’t be the only one who sees it. Tell me I’m wrong—”
I stop and so does he. A car honks and swerves around him.
“Are you going to talk the entire way?” I demand.
“You haven’t spoken to me in weeks; I have a lot I’ve been waiting to say.”
“Will you shut up if I get in the car with you?”
“I think I can manage to do that.”
I hop in the passenger seat and call roadside assistance. They tell me it will likely be at least two hours until they can be out here. Which means, unless I can snag Wes’s keys without him looking and make a quick getaway, I’m out of luck.
Wes pulls into a parking lot in front of a faded wood-paneled building. A neon sign above the entrance reads Next Exit and then under it in tiny script,0 miles. A pair of motorcycles and three cars are spread across the asphalt.
“What the hell is this place?”
“You’re the one who said she wanted to sing with me at a shitty dive bar,” Wes says, cutting the engine and exiting.
I follow closely behind, slamming my door behind me. “That’s what this is about. That list?” He can’t seriously think I want to finish that with him after what’s happened.
“It’s a bonus.” His expression sobers, pausing when we reach the steps leading up to the entrance. “Think of it this way. We get up on that stage in there and prove that we can get along for the length of a song. I didn’t want to pick somewhere too close to the city, so I hunted down this place. I called up the owner andthey’re cool with us hopping on stage for a bit as long as we don’t suck.”
“One song?” I ask, hesitant to agree.
“That’s all I’m asking.” Keys clink as he holds them up so they jingle inches from my face. “We sing, we talk, and then if you want, I’ll give you my keys and you can drive back to LA while I take care of your car.”
I take a step forward, my hand planting on the soft cotton of his shirt. His breath hitches beneath my touch.
“Or I could just take them.” My other hand plucks the keys from his now loose grip. I will say it’s satisfying seeing how I affect him. He may be my weakness, but I know I’m his too.
“That’s just playing dirty.” The words rumble out of him, his tone decadently rich, vibrating against my palm.
“I thought that’s how you like it. Dragging me around. Playing games. Showing up here to ambush me.” I find his hand again, pressing the keys back into his palm, the metal teeth digging into my skin. His fingers curl, tangling with mine. Rough callouses scraping against my knuckles. “But I’m not like you. I’ll stay and sing and talk,” I whisper, my eyes latching onto his, finding his pupils blown wide. Electricity licks up my spine. “I’ll do all of it, just don’t expect me to like you after.”
Breathless, I pat his chest and pull away, leaving him reeling in a state of heady shock. My lips curl in satisfaction. It’s nice being the one in charge for once.
18
Wesley
October 2025
How do you make a dive bar better? It’s hard to improve the tried-and-true formula. Christmas lights strung up in the rafters. Floor sticky with biohazardous liquid that could probably mutate and start a zombie apocalypse. Greasy food that makes your mouth water while you forget that heartburn exists.
There’s one way I know for sure. You give Avery Sloane a guitar and put her on whatever rickety stage is available and brace yourself. The five patrons scattered across the bar and wobbly wooden tables are about to have the best night of their lives, and they don’t even know it.
Before we make it onto the stage, Avery and I eat, because as she reminded me, I dragged her out here in the middle of nowhere for food and she can’t perform on an empty stomach.
I sit across from her, as she swirls her fries in ketchup, biting my tongue. I want to explain everything. But I’m forcing myself to wait. I’ve got it in my head that if we just get up on stage and sing together, she’ll remember how well we work, increasing the chance that she’ll listen and we can move on.
I just want to go back before I ran into Maddie. Fuck, before I ever met her at all and make sure we never got to this point.
Avery moans, leaning back against her seat, her plate scraped clean. “Fuck. This food alone might have been worth putting up with you for the night.”
A waifish waitress with a stained white apron around her waist walks over to us. “Can I get you anything else? Chef is heading out soon so it will just be drinks here on out.”
“Two Shirley Temples.”
