But I’d played it safe. I know I had done the right thing, driving her home instead of making excuses to keep her in my arms. Now I have to sit with the ache of it, the way I can still feel her against me, the way I know one taste wasn’t enough.

I needed to talk to Mo about it.

She has always been the first person I tell everything to, the one who knew me better than anyone. But she’s been flaking on me for days now—dodging my calls, bailing on plans, always coming up with some half-assed excuse. I want to tell her about Selene, about how good it felt to finally be with someone who made me feel like I didn’t have to try so hard. But every time I reached out, an excuse or obstacle got in the way.

And then there was Bennett.

I’d driven past Mo’s house twice this week and both times, his motorcycle was parked outside. He’d been lingering. Hanging around too much. And I wasn’t stupid—I knew what that usually meant.

Mo was secretly hooking up with him.

And honestly? I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

I mean, I want her to be happy. But Bennett? He isn’t bad, but he isn’t exactly an open book either. He is new to town and isn’t even planning on staying for longer than getting his article, or whatever written. Mo has been through enough—she doesn’t need some complicated, broody situation making her life harder.

And sneaking around? That’s what bothers me most. Why hide it? Why not just tell me?

I don’t like secrets.

So when my phone buzzes and I see Mo’s name pop up, I brace myself for whatever excuse she’s about to throw my way.

Mo: I’m on my way over, also bringing company, we need to talk.

Well, that’s cryptic and not at all what I was expecting.

Me: I’m leaving the cafe now.

Her message is cryptic. Not the usual Hey, I need a favor or Let’s grab food. It stirs an unease I can’t quite explain.

My house isn’t far, only a fifteen-minute walk, so I take my time, letting the fresh air clear my head. The scenery helps a little—old brick buildings, tree-lined streets, and the quiet hum of Shadow Grove in the late afternoon. But the unease still lingers, curling low in my stomach.

By the time I reach my place, Mo’s car is already in the driveway. Of course, she let herself in. Mo and I have been best friends since our preteens so it makes sense that we have keys to the other’s place.