Sierra reaches in to give me a tight hug, and it’s nice. To feel like I have people, family. They don’t say much, just make small talk about the party and how I’ve been lately even though I haven’t made it back to the shop as often as I’d like. The whole time I can tell they’re looking for Savannah, wondering why she’s not next to me. Why she’s standing with the blonde girl from the gala at the opposite side of the house, looking just as depressed as I do. But they don't ask. Because they know me.

They know I won’t answer.

The truth about Ryder, the truth that I can’t bring myself to admit sits on my tongue, growing more and more sour with every minute that passes. It’ll just stay there, left unsaid, and for a while I have myself convinced that it’s for the best. So when Rafe, sitting next to me with a glass of whiskey nearly spits his drink out and asks, “Is that Ryder?” I want to ignore the question.

“Yeah,” I answer gruffly.

“You guys not getting along, huh?” he asks.

“We avoid each other pretty well.”

“Who is that?” Sierra asks, and in her defense, Sierra always means well. But right now, I don't want her asking any questions.

I walk away to fill my glass but not far enough that I can’t hear their conversation. “He was kind of like Murph’s brother. Hazel sort of took him in, too.”

“I thought you guys were his brothers,” she teases and I wince. They have no fucking clue.

“Yeah well, they actually grew up together. In the same house, you know? We’re more like a stand-in family.”

“A better fucking family,” I growl as I walk up. It’s true. Logan, Rafe, and Theo, when he was alive, were always there, no matter what. No questions asked. Not Ryder. That kind of family is only a set-up for heartbreak. Don’t count on people you can't trust. The family you choose will always be there.

“Where’s your girl?” a slimy voice whispers over my shoulder. I already know who it is before I turn.

That smug asshole, Colin Mc-fucking-Affery, is standing by the bar with his elbow perched there like he owns the damn place.

Needless to say, I do not answer him.

“You two haven’t been talking all night. I’ve noticed. I didn’t realize you were the bone-you-own-sister kind of guy,” he laughs.

I won’t even acknowledge him. Won’t even look at him.

“She is your sister, right? I mean...the three of you were all Hazel’s little charity cases.”

“Fuck off, Colin.”

I said I wouldn’t answer him, but the drink in my hand has me a little too loose.