Daniel leans forward, arms on the table, gaze soft. “You okay, though? Like… really?”
I nod slowly. “Yeah. I think I am.”
Colton raises an eyebrow. “Thatdoesn’tsound like the kind of ‘I’m okay’ that ends in tequila and bad decisions.”
“That’s just Tuesday for Luke,” Will mutters.
“Rude,” I say, flipping him off. “But fair.”
Eli leans in next. “Seriously, though. Did you talk to him? Like actually talk?”
I glance toward the bar. Silas is there, focused on pouring something amber into a glass. But his shoulders are tenser now. Like maybe he still feels me watching.
“Yeah,” I say. “I talked to him. We didn’t say much, but… it mattered.”
Micah raises his eyebrows. “Closure?”
“I don’t know if that’s what it was,” I admit. “He said sorry. I told him I didn’t need it. And I meant it. I’m good. He’s the one still carrying it.”
Max leans back in his seat. “You gonna see him again?”
I sip my drink. “Not unless he wants to.”
A beat of silence. Then Daniel nudges me with his shoulder. “You’re not gonna chase?”
I shake my head. “Not this time.”
Ty whistles low. “Growth. Look at our boy.”
“I’m very proud of you,” Daniel deadpans. “For having the restraint I absolutely would not.”
Everyone laughs.
Colton lifts his glass. “To Luke—strong enough to stay standing, even when the past shows up in tight jeans and a brooding stare.”
“Seriously,” Micah mutters. “The man’s unreasonably hot.” Colton smacks him, and he laughs, pulling him in for a kiss.
I snort. “Yeah, I noticed.”
We clink glasses and keep talking, but a few minutes later, I catch Silas glancing over again. This time, he holds my gaze.
And it’s not full of regret or pain. It’s quiet. Curious. Maybe even hopeful.
I tip my head in a small nod. Nothing more.
He nods back.
That’s it. That’s the whole thing. But man, does it feel like I’ve been gifted the whole world in a single night.
The blender is way tooloud.
I wince and lean my head against the fridge while it finishes destroying my banana-kale-protein hopes and dreams. Saturday mornings are supposed to be sacred—gym,smoothie, bad TV, and maybe a nap before whatever plan my friends rope me into by noon.
But this morning?
My head’s pounding, my neck’s sore from whatever position I passed out in, and I’m still replayingeverythingfrom last night on a loop.
The bar. Silas.
