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“Uh, no. He stayed until closing.”

Georgie smirks into her glass. She was there for most of it and watched Dean plant himself at the bar in front of me for almost an hour.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Rory says, dragging her chair closer, “but I don’t think Dean has ever stayed at The Breakwater until closing.”

“Nothing is going on,” I insist.

At least, I don’t think there is.

We’ve barely had a conversation that didn’t involve flirtatious banter. The only real things I know about him are that he’s a mechanic and has a daughter named Penny.

And that I very nearly kissed him last night.

But they don’t need to know that part.

“Leave the poor bitch alone,” Georgie says, shooting me a secret smile. “She can’t help that he’s hot and nice to look at.”

“Speaking of men who are nice to look at…” Mallory spins dramatically toward Georgie. “Logan.”

It’s the first time I’ve seen Georgie blush.

Her eyes widen. “Fuck off, Mal.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Rory mutters. “Those are my older brothers. Can we stop discussing how hot they are?”

“Can’t stop, won’t stop, babe.” Mallory laughs into her glass. “It’s not our fault you’re related to them.”

The conversation dissolves into laughter, and I find myself joining in without thinking.

Sitting among them, I can feel the first fragile edges of belonging.

It scares me just as much as it excites me.

Twelve

Dean

The morning sun wakes me, and my head immediately reminds me why the extra beers were a shit idea.

After texting Blair last night, I lay awake for another hour replaying the moment inside her Kombi. How close we came. The way her eyes dropped to my mouth before I stopped.

I can’t help wondering whether she wanted me to kiss her.

The sunlight pouring through my window feels unnecessarily aggressive. The only saving grace is that Aspen was already spending the night with my parents, where she can enjoy pancakes and seven a.m. questions while I suffer in peace.

I drag myself out of bed and head straight for the shower, hoping the hot water can undo at least one of my decisions from last night.

It doesn’t.

Once I’m dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, I decide coffee and bacon are my only chance of becoming functional again.

I make it as far as the front door before remembering my truck is still parked outside The Breakwater.

Fuck.

One look at the sunlight rules out walking, so I pull out my phone and text Rory.

ME: Need a ride into town, can you help out?