“Night’s young.”
“This isn’t you,” he said, shaking his head. “This is him.”
She tapped her fingers angrily against the bar.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. This has Milo written all over it. You’re hardly his first project.”
Hanna glared, a rush of venom pooling on her tongue.
“Project?”
“Yeah, Hanna. A project. He can’t fucking help himself. He loves a damsel in distress who he can psychoanalyze, smooth talk, and have crawling all over him at his beck and call without ever committing, while claiming it's something he 'just can't do.' I've known the guy since he was a kid, Hanna. I've watched him play the same game for fifteen fucking years.”
Her chest tightened, the room’s temperature skyrocketing with each word. She folded her arms around herself, a prickling at the back of her neck sending shivers down her spine.
I’m a fucking moron.
“You know I’m right,” Logan murmured.
“You’re drunk.”
He arched his brows. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
She bit down on her tongue. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
"I know exactly what I'm talking about," he said and threw back the rest of his drink. He gestured to the suited-up figure drifting toward them. "Go ahead, ask him how I know."
“Logan,” she warned.
Milo set his whiskey on the bar and Brendon looked nervous, tapping Matty on the shoulder to call his attention to what was about to happen.
Logan could barely hold eye contact with Milo.
“What’s going on?” Milo asked.
“Does Hanna know about Michaela?”
Milo’s eyes widened at the name, but he recovered smoothly, looking at Hanna.
“I don’t think your brother’s bachelor party is the time to rehash ancient history, Logan.”
“Typical,” Logan muttered.
Milo moved toward him, his hand out to de-escalate the situation, but Logan—blasted—read it as aggression. Milo lowered his voice in an attempt to get Logan to back down.
“I’m not trying to get into anything with you right now, Logan. You’re drunk and you need to back off.” Milo turned to Hanna, lowering his voice even further. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know, Arizona. It’s not a secret.”
Logan shook his head, stepping closer, just a few inches of distance between them.
“Cut the therapy bullshit. It’s exhausting. We get it, you’re better than us.”
“Lo,” Matty said, his lips pursed in irritation.
“Great,” Logan snorted. “He steals my girlfriend, he steals my brother, he steals my other girlfriend,” he ranted, gesturing to Hanna.
Milo’s fingers twitched. “You know, Logan, there’s a common denominator in all these relationships falling apart and it’s not me.”
