I take a deep breath. “Actually, I think I want to head home.” I squeeze his arm, an effort at reassurance for myself as much as him. I’m totally not running away from a romantic evening with George that may or may not include a ring. That would be unreasonable when there’s no reason to think that ring is for me. Maybe he’s . . . holding it for a friend. “I’m going to hole up in my apartment and work on my revisions all day tomorrow.”

“I understand.” He pinches my chin and smiles down at me. “You can make it up to me next time.”

At some point, we’re going to have to talk about the future, and about what happens to us when I leave Starling for a job with another university—no matter what fell out of his pocket. But I’m a coward and can’t do it tonight. Not with Easton’s smell in my nose and my body still buzzing from our reunion.

Easton

The last time I was in the Jackson Brews bar, it was a hole in the wall, bordering on a dive bar. At the time, Jake was trying to turn it into something more. I can’t say I totally understood his vision at the time, but the transformation he’s created here is phenomenal.

Despite the snow outside, every booth in the bar is full. Patrons crowd around the tables, mingle at high-tops set around the pool tables, and lean against any free space at the bar. Waitstaff bustle about in jeans and red Jackson Brews T-shirts, and I nearly do a spit take when I see the back of one.

Jackson Brews

The bar, the beer, and oh Lord . . . the BROTHERS!

I spot Jake behind the bar, his messy skater hair hanging over one eye. I grab a stool just as its occupant leaves. “Nice place, Jake.”

He grins at me. “I forgot how long it’s been for you. You probably haven’t been here since . . .” The amusement fades from his face. “Probably Dad’s funeral, huh?”

“I didn’t make it over here during that trip,” I say, still taking it all in. Even the ritzy bars in Laguna smell a little like stale beer, but this place is sparkling. The pride in his ownership is evident. “I should’ve made the time. Seriously. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Jake waves away my apology. “Don’t give it another thought. What can I get you? Beer? Food?”

I glance at the chalkboard menus over his head. “How’s the Jackson Haze?”

“Well, it’s one of mine, so it’s excellent, of course. You like hazy IPAs?”

“I do. Let me try that one.”

“Got it.” He pours my beer and listens to a waitress from the floor rattle off an order for her table. This place isn’t all that’s evolved. Jake has too. The whole family has.