Page 41 of Lucky Strike

“I know, I suck,” I say. “I’m just so used to early bedtimes, you know?”

“No, I get it.” Deflating visibly, he leaves his glass on the table and pats his pockets. “Let’s go.”

“I’m sorry.” I look up at him as we wait for the elevator. “It kind of hit me all at once.”

“Hey, no worries. You don’t have to apologize.” He softens as he looks down at me. “I had fun tonight.”

“Me too! Thanks for bringing me out.”

“Any time.” He squeezes my shoulder as we board the elevator, the weight of his hand lingering.

We’re maybe half a block away when Tristan’s unmistakable shout echoes down the sidewalk. “Sawyer!”

Sawyer spins to greet his buddy with a laugh. “T-bone! Were you up at Salty’s, too?”

Tristan bounds over like a puppy, slapping Sawyer’s back. Conlan follows at a slower saunter, trailed by the rest of their group. Finn gives me a kind smile, and I smile back, recognizing the other guys from nights at the townhouse.Alex. Malachi.One thing about Conlan, he’s always had a crew.

No beautiful brunette, though. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised—I never see him with women. Is it because of Liam? Or is he just very discreet? My stomach tightens unpleasantly.

“Night out on the town?” he asks dryly, watching cars pass on the street.

“Something like that.” Giving him my back, I fold my arms and wait for Sawyer and Tristan to wrap up their bromantic chitchat.

“Bria the Cheese!” Tristan slings an arm around me. “Getting out of the house looks good on you.”

“Ha, thanks.” I offer a weak smile, wishing my heart wasn’t beating so fast. Why do I feel guilty, like I’ve been caught doing something bad?

“What’re you guys getting into tonight?”

“I was actually just about to drop her home,” Sawyer says, twirling his keys around his finger. “We had dinner earlier.”

“Cool, cool.” Tristan’s eyes flicker to his brother before returning to Sawyer. “Hey, did?—”

“I can bring her home,” Conlan interrupts. “I’m heading there now.”

Tristan frowns at this, scratching his head, looking from Conlan to Sawyer and back.

Sawyer straightens up, his usual goofiness sharpening into a faint smirk. “Nah, it’s cool, Lucky. You guys have fun. You ready, Bria?”

“You sure you’re good to drive, Sawyer?” Conlan asks, but now his eyes are on me.

“He’s fine.” I glare at him, irritated by the fake-concern. He barely talks to me, and now this? Please. I tap Sawyer’s arm. “Come on, let’s go. See you later, guys.”

“Bye, Bria,” Tristan says.

We’re quiet as we walk. It’s hard not to feel like the relaxed fun we enjoyed all evening wasn’t just dampened by Conlan’s moody bullshit. “Bria,” Sawyer says as his car comes into view. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

I cringe in dismay. Things might not be rosy between Conlan and me, but nothing’swrong. “Of course.”

“Just … promise me you’ll be careful,” he implores, his cheeks flushed.

“With who, Conlan?” I huff softly, shaking my head. “He’s just being overprotective. He’s gotten used to me being a homebody.”

It’s obvious Sawyer has more to say as he opens my door, but thankfully, he doesn’t. He slides into the driver’s seat, starts the car, and asks if I’ve ever been to a baseball game.

“Not unless you count Little League.”

“I have season passes.” He glances at me as he pulls away from the curb. “Red Sox. I’ll take you sometime.”

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