“Carly!”
I turn just in time to see Zoe practically fling herself down the steps in her slippers, and I'm suspicious before she even reaches me.
“No,” I say.
She stops short. “I didn’t even say anything.”
“You have the face.”
“What face?”
“The face that says you're about to tell me not to go.”
Her mouth opens, then closes, like she knows I'm right.“I need you to come with me to the brewery.”
My eyes go wide. “No. Not a chance in hell.”
“Carly—”
“Nope.” I slip down into the driver's seat. “Absolutely not. I know what this is.”
“Cole and Dana and Maddox are there,” she rushes out, following me when I open the door. “No one else. I promise.They still care about you, Carly. They want to wish you good luck before you go.”
My hand freezes on the wheel.
I stare at the dashboard. The sensible thing would be to shut the door and leave Boulder before this city can put another hook in me. The interview is at two. I have time, but notendlesstime.
“I just want to leave,” I say, and I hate how small it sounds.
Zoe’s face softens. “I know.”
“Then let me.”
“I will,” she says. “After this. Just ten minutes. They’re your friends too.”
My throat tightens.I close my eyes, taking a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth.“Ten minutes,” I say.
Zoe exhales in relief. “Ten minutes.”
* * *
The brewery parking lot is almost empty when we pull in. Pearson Beers doesn’t technically open until later, and the whole place looks strange in daylight without the low roar of conversation spilling through the doors, without laughter and music and the clink of glasses. The building sits quiet and still, all brick and dark windows.
There are three other cars in the parking lot, and blessedly, none of them are Grayson’s Aston Martin.
Inside, the brewery smells faintly like wood polish, hops, and floor cleaner mixed with beer. The tables are empty. The chairs are tucked in. The bar lights are on low, enough to make the bottles gleam on the shelves but not enough to chase the shadows from the corners.
And suspiciously, there is no Cole, no Dana, no Maddox.
Not a soul.
I stop just inside the door. “Zoe.”
“Huh,” she says, and I canhearthe act in her voice now. She’s never been a very good liar. “That’s weird.”
I slowly step in, watching her as she keeps walking.
She avoids looking at me entirely, wandering forward. “Maybe they’re in the back.”
