Whoever said the road to hell is paved with good intentions has obviously never been to Pennsylvania. This shit I’ve been walking on is a land mine of potholes. Giant craters blindsiding me from every which way, causing irreparable damage.

But I know better now.

Or rather, I should.

“Look,” Mason says gently after a moment. “How ‘bout we move this to O’Leary’s before we stroke out from this heat? You can get a feel of the place, have a couple beers, and figure out what you wanna do.”

I sigh and sweep my gaze over my surroundings, taking in the strange yet familiar sights. I don’t think much around here has changed, but everything looks smaller now. Sharper in a way. Condensed.

And yet, I don’t feel smothered by it.

“We’ve got a few hours before we open, so we should have the place to ourselves,” he goes on before pausing briefly. “I can call Reggie if you’re still interested in sticking around. I’m sure he’d be willing to work something out off-the-books so you’re not trapped in a lease, should you change your mind.”

Throat thick with gratitude and regret, I try to work up the words to kindly decline his offer and get back on the road. Because as oddly coincidental as this has all been, it’s too good to be true. Too tempting. It’s one thing to run into Mason, but it’d be another to see Waylon again.

Do I even want to see him again?

You’re here, aren’t you? Why else would you come back? The voice in my head sounds suspiciously like Zayne. Like he’s some kind of spirit guide I never asked for. I scoff at the thought.

“Will.”

I blink up at Mason. I must have taken too long to respond.

Something flickers in his eyes, almost like a shadow moving in and out. Gone before I can even hope to catch it. He smiles sadly. Knowingly, even. It sends a chill up my spine.

It’s like he sees right through me.

Like he gets it.

But how?

He tips his head in the direction of a silver Dodge Ram 1500. “Need a lift, or do you wanna follow?”

I rub a hand over my mouth, hiding my growing smile. “You’re not gonna take no for an answer, are you?”

He flashes me a grin that creases his pale-colored eyes as he twirls his keys around his thumb. He takes a step back, then another, not taking his attention off me. “That implies you want to say no, which I don’t think you do.” His grin widens. “You just think you should.”

Another huff of laughter. I nod. “Fair enough, I guess.” Shaking my head, I jack a thumb behind me, toward where I left my bike. “Lead the way?”