“It’s been a long time since I’ve been here,” I say as my shoes crush peanut shells on the cement floor.

“It’s Cricket’s favorite. For what reason, I’ll never know.”

Mo’s hasn’t changed at all since the one and only other time I’ve been here. It’s crazy how sometimes it only takes doing something different once to change the entire course of your life.

All I can hope is that tonight changes it for the better.

My eyes adjust to the dim lighting, and it takes me all of three seconds to spot Whitney. Her dark hair swings over her shoulder the moment Cricket squeals when she sees Hunter, jumping up and dodging tall tables and the people sitting at them to get to him.

Whitney’s blue gaze lands on me, and everyone else in the room may as well have gone up in smoke. She stares at me for long moments without blinking, and I’d give anything to know what the hell she’s thinking.

Is she remembering that night we met? I would give just about any fucking thing to have tonight end the same way that one did.

I study Whitney’s face as she takes her time looking me over. Her expression isn’t angry. She isn’t running in the other direction.

Maybe . . . maybe I do have a chance to fix this.

Cricket rushes past me, probably to throw herself at Hunter, and I walk toward Whitney slowly, as if she’s an animal I’m trying not to spook. She doesn’t run. She doesn’t even break eye contact.

When I stop in front of her, an apology is the first thing out of my mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

Her reply stuns me. “For what?”

“Because tomorrow . . .”

When she pauses, a pang stabs me in the chest because I know exactly what she’s going to say. I can’t believe I managed to forget this year. Whitney opens her mouth to keep speaking, but a redheaded biker chick stops beside her.

“I know who you are. Thought I was dreaming. But you’re the bitch who killed Ricky Rango.” She waves to a guy in a black leather vest. “Bruno. It’s her! Whitney Rango!”

For fuck’s sake.

The woman gets in Whitney’s face, and I step around her and move Whitney behind me without touching the woman.

“I’m going to ask you once to leave her alone—”

Bruno barrels toward me. “Don’t you get in her face, motherfucker. That’s my sister.”

Fucking hell.

The last thing I want to do is get into a bar fight with a biker, but apparently fights are the only reason I come to Mo’s. That, and to see Whitney Gable.

The woman jabs her finger into my chest. “I don’t give a shit about you, asshole. My beef’s with her. She killed the legend. She should be in jail for what she did to him. So, get the fuck out of my way because I’m gonna kick her fucking ass.”