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Courtney looks like someone has ripped open a part of her life she wanted to keep hidden. Whatever the money means, this isn’t the time or place to drag it out of her.

“Logan, enough,” I say firmly.

His eyes move to mine. He drags in a breath, then gives me a reluctant nod.

“Dean’s a better person than me,” he tells Courtney. “I would’ve told you to leave this town and never fucking come back.”

With that, he turns and storms out of the bar.

The silence he leaves behind feels deafening.

I look back at Courtney and, for one brief second, almost feel sorry for her. The shame written across her face tells me Logan wasn’t guessing.

She asked Jack for the money.

I just don’t know why.

“You could’ve let him keep going,” she says quietly.

“Whatever you came here to say, you need to say it to Dean.” I hold her gaze. “I’m not having a conversation about him or Aspen behind his back.”

Courtney studies me for a moment, her expression impossible to read.

Then she gets up and leaves without another word.

I stare at the door after it closes.

I need to call Dean.

I need to see him.

Twenty Eight

Dean

It’s Monday morning, and I’m doing everything in my power to focus on work.

Blair called last night, but something about the conversation felt off. She insisted she was fine, then ended the call before I could push. Courtney being back is clearly bothering her, and I need Blair to understand that I’m all in with her.

Courtney doesn’t change that.

I’m halfway under a Ford when Knox’s boots appear beside my head.

My hands fall to my sides. “If you’re about to tell me there’s another fucking problem with this thing, don’t.”

“There’s another fucking problem with this thing,” Knox says.

I close my eyes. “Of course there is.”

He laughs as I slide out from beneath the car, wiping the back of my wrist across my forehead.

It’s been one of those days.

Two late parts deliveries, a customer convinced I’m personally responsible for the existence of rust, and a transmission currently doing everything in its power to ruin my fucking life.

So, when the bell above the front door rings, I barely look up.

Knox does.