My throat burns.
I swallow hard. “He won’t know.”
Logan’s eyes hold mine. “He’ll know.”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
Logan shifts forward carefully, knee brace creaking faintly.
“Come on,” he says, gentler now. “I’ll drive. We’ll stay thirty minutes. If you hate it, we leave. I’ll be miserable with you.”
I blink. “You’re coming?”
His brow lifts. “You think I’m letting you walk into Jade’s chaos alone?”
“I can handle Jade,” I snap.
Logan’s mouth twitches. “No one can handle Jade.”
I hate that I almost smile.
I hate it more that I’m tired enough to give in.
“Fine,” I say sharply. “Twenty minutes.”
Logan’s grin is immediate. “Thirty.”
“Twenty,” I repeat.
“Twenty-five,” he bargains.
I narrow my eyes.
He lifts a brow right back.
“Fine,” I mutter. “Twenty-five.”
Logan stands with a careful shift of weight. “Look at you. Compromise. Growth.” He grabs his keys. “Go put on shoes.”
I glare at him, but I do it.
Because the truth is—I don’t trust myself to stay in this house tonight without turning into something I don’t recognize.
—
Jade’s apartment is loud before we even open the door.
Music thumps through the walls, bass heavy enough to feel in your bones. Someone shrieks with laughter. A door slams. Then more laughter.
Logan pauses outside the door and looks at me like,Are you sure?
I send him a glare. His mouth twitches. “Just checking.”
He knocks once, then opens it because Jade doesn’t believe in locks or privacy.
The smell hits first—pizza, cheap perfume, and something fruity that’s definitely alcohol.
Jade is in the living room wearing a sweatshirt that saysWINNERS ONLY, like she’s branding herself. She spots me and immediately screams.
