Zeke chuckled. “What the hell does that even mean? They feel sorry for you before sending one up to the Almighty? What good is that going to do? The shit has already hit the fan at that point. If the Lord was going to help, you’d think he woulda done it before you needed those thoughts and prayers.”

I laughed, the light feeling spreading throughout my entire body. It was the first time I’d felt better after telling someone about Matt’s death. Zeke got extra points for not wanting to know the details.

My phone buzzed. I checked it, seeing an unknown number had texted me. I tapped the screen and knew immediately who it was. I rolled my eyes, tapped out a reply, and put down my phone. Zeke started to say something, but it buzzed again.

I silenced it.

“Is that your dad? Are you past curfew?”

“Worse. One of my bosses.”

“Oh, shit. Did you get called in?”

“I don’t get called in. It’s a day job. My boss… It’s complicated. We’re both from Sasabe. We were childhood best friends. We were sort of each other’s first loves. We broke up when he got engaged to the woman he’s married to now. Like I said…”

“Me inviting a girl who can beat my ass to my hotel room is complicated. What you just described is a clusterfuck, Naomi.”

I giggled. “True.” I checked my phone again. “He lied to me, and it would appear that he now knows that I know.”

“Uh oh. What are you going to do?”

“Not respond to his texts. That’s all I can do for now.”

“That’s actually torture. My ex used to do that shit to me right after we broke up, and I hated it. It’s like getting a finger stuck in a bullet wound.”

“Have you been shot before?”

He frowned. “Have you?”

“A few times.”

“Shut up. Are you serious?” When I stared at him blankly, he squirmed in his seat—something I enjoyed immensely. “I haven’t … been shot. Or shot at.”

“What is that?”

“What?” he asked.

“That look on your face. What does that mean?”

“You want the truth?” he asked, preparing to tell it.

I nodded.

“I’m struggling with how inferior I feel around you, and every time you tell me something about yourself, it makes that feeling worse.”

“Wow. You’ve got stones telling me that.”

He shrugged. “You asked for the truth.”

“And you just give it, huh?”

“Why not?” He watched me, not waiting for my reaction but studying me, trying to figure me out.

“I’ve heard I take some getting used to.” I stood. “You’re sort of the same.”

He smiled at that.

“Another beer?” I asked.

Zeke looked at his bottle, still almost half-full. “I’m good.”

“Mind if I…”

“Go for it,” he said.