Chace dodges it with the reflexes of someone who's had a lot of things thrown at him. "See, this is why I have trust issues.”
The three of us fall into conversation—Chace filling the space with stories about who stayed, who left, who came back when life didn't go the way they planned. Shae adds color, correcting his exaggerations, laughing at the right moments.
I listen more than I speak. The edge of my nerves softens as the alcohol warms me, but something still feels off. Like I'm watching them instead of being with them.
Like I don't quite fit anymore.
A woman walks past and Chace's attention follows automatically, grin already forming.
Shae snaps her fingers in front of his face. "Focus."
"I'm multitasking."
"You're a disaster."
"That too."
I laugh, and for a second it almost feels like before.
Almost.
The door opens.
And before my mind can catch up, my body knows.
Eli Dawson doesn't announce himself. He never has. He steps inside and the room adjusts—not dramatically, just a subtle shift, like the air remembers him.
Recognition hits low and sharp, stealing my breath.
Five years.
Time has been good to him. Unfairly so.
He's broader now—shoulders that claim space, arms roped with muscle earned from years of ranch work. His forearms are sun-darkened and marked with ink I don't remember, dark lines wrapped around tanned skin. His hair is darker than I remember, almost black, cut shorter but still long enough to curl slightly at his neck. Rough shadow lines his jaw, the kind that suggests he hasn't shaved in days and doesn't care.
Faded jeans sit low on his hips. Scuffed boots. Plain black T-shirt stretched across his chest, sleeves pushed high enough to bare those tattooed forearms.
He looks like a man who knows exactly where he stands.
Heat flickers low in my stomach despite everything I tell myself.
No. Not going there.
"Well, shit," Chace says, grin widening. "Look who finally decided to show up."
He moves toward Eli immediately, clapping him on the shoulder. Eli returns it, familiar and solid. Best friends. Still.
Chace pulls him toward us. "Been a minute since we've had the whole crew together, huh?"
The whole crew. The words point at the empty space where I used to stand.
Eli's gaze sweeps the room once—a habit I remember—before landing on me. Something flickers. Something hard.
His jaw tightens and he looks away first, like I'm not worth the effort.
It stings more than it should.
"Hazel." His voice is low and even. Not welcoming. Not cruel. Just there.
