But the warmth stayed. Pooled on my shoulder. Spread through my chest. Settled somewhere near my heart.
The crew cleared out just after midnight.
Rodriguez and Maria left first to collect the kids from Abuela. Martinez and Kowalski headed out after one last argument about whose fantasy picks were worse.
Brian and Ava waved goodbye from the door, Brian calling out something about the next barbecue that made Garrett shake his head.
Then it was just us, standing on the sidewalk outside the bar, the city humming quietly around us.
"I'll drive you home," Garrett said.
The streets were empty at this hour. Traffic lights cycling through colors for no one. Garrett drove the way he did everything—controlled, deliberate, scanning every variable. His hands steady on the wheel. His eyes scanning the road ahead.
Streetlight, shadow, streetlight. The line of his jaw. The way his shoulders filled out his jacket. A profile I'd memorizeda decade ago—older now, harder—but still mine in a way I couldn't explain.
He found parking near my building. Cut the engine.
"I'll walk you up," he said.
"You don't have to?—"
He didn't answer. Just got out and came around to my side.
We walked side by side through the lobby, into the elevator, up to my floor. The hallway was empty, the building quiet with the particular stillness of late night.
At my door, I turned to face him.
"Thank you for tonight," I said. "I had a really good time. Your crew is..."
I searched for the right word.
"They're good people. I can see why you love them."
"They loved you, too." He was close enough that I could smell soap and smoke and something underneath that was justhim."You should come next time. Join us again."
Next time.Like this was something we did now. Like we belonged in each other's lives again.
"I'd like that," I said.
Silence settled between us. He was looking at me with those gray-blue eyes, and I was looking back, and the space between us felt impossibly small.
Kiss me. Or I'm going to kiss you.
His gaze dropped to my mouth. The hallway shrank to nothing.
"Good night, Garrett." Barely a whisper.
Something flickered in his expression. Disappointment, maybe. Or relief.
"Good night, Sloane."
He waited until I'd unlocked the door, until I'd stepped inside, until I turned back to look at him one more time. Then he nodded once and walked back toward the elevator.
I closed the door. Leaned against it. Listened to the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall.
Sleep didn't come easy.
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying the evening in my mind. The bar. The crew. The easy way they'd welcomed me into their circle—Maria's warm handshake. Brian's teasing. Ava's quiet observation that Garrett was different with me.
