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“We text a little bit sometimes,” he shrugs. “It’s not that deep.”

Yeah, keep telling yourself that, I think to myself.

Reiss groans, “Stop lookin’ at me like that. It will never be me and Stassie.”

“Because of Mira?” I ask. “Or because of you?”

“It’s more complicated than you know,” he admits. “So just please let it go.”

I nod, and do as he asks. Letting it go. If he wants to talk he will, besides I know what it's like to want to keep things private.

Case in point: Lincoln. And chances are if I start prying, so will he.

I whip my phone out and type a message to Lincoln.

Colson

A party huh?

Lincoln

Word travels fast.

Colson

Your brother invited me.

Lincoln

Did he? How convenient?

Colson

Celebrating America’s independence, I don’t think I should miss it.

Lincoln

I mean, yeah stop by if you want. It’s whatever.

Colson

At least I’ll get to see you.

Lincoln

That’s kind of the point, dipshit.

Colson

I’m flattered.

Lincoln

I want to see you when we aren’t training. If I have to throw a stupid party for it to seem like it’s in the wild, then so be it.

Colson

Love you too, baby Bane.