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“I’m serious. Tonight, it’s just you and me. We forget about men making false promises, and we stick together.”
“You’re really not my type.”
Taylen picks up a peanut from the small bowl on the table and throws it at my forehead.
“I mean we stick together as friends. Not for you to hook up with me and become my next terrible decision, Griffin. God.”
“Just clarifying.”
“New plan,” he says again. “We finish these wings, get another round of beer, and we absolutely do not think about them.”
“Who?”
“Precisely.”
“That’s a good plan.”
“Thank you.”
We both lift our empty bottles and clink them together.
“Did we just toast with empty bottles?” I ask, staring at mine.
“Fuck. Now we’ve gone and ruined everything for sure.”
I raise my hand toward the bar. “Joe, another round please.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
FOX
The van bounces over another patch of frozen road and Nikko lets out an indignant squawk as his coffee sloshes onto his sleeve.
“Oh, come on, Bastian,” he says from the front passenger seat as he looks for something to clean his sleeve.
“You’re more than welcome to take the wheel,” Bastian says.
“No, thank you.”
I press my forehead against the cold window and watch the trees blur past.
The drive from Burlington will take another couple of hours. Bastian is at the wheel of the rental van we picked up at the airport. Nikko is riding shotgun while Stone and I are spread across the two middle rows with our duffel bags stacked in the back.
Everyone is in a good mood.
The label meeting is behind us, and Daisy has the paperwork in motion. While we agreed we needed a break, it was still a scary decision. And in the back of our minds, it wasn’t permanent because there was always a chance the label would put a stop to it.
That happened much earlier than either of us had imagined, and now that we’ve made the biggest decision of our careers, it should feel even scarier. It doesn’t. It’s freeing.
Two more hours, and we’ll be back in Winterberry.
Maybe fewer if Bastian keeps driving like he’s late for something.
“So,” Stone says, leaning forward between our seats. “Nikko.”
“No,” Nikko says.
“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”