Page 637 of End Game

My mouth drops open.

Micah closes his eyes.

Dex loses his fucking mind. “I KNEW IT.”

“You knew what?” I demand.

“That you were dying to ask.”

“I was not dying.”

“You were absolutely dying.”

“I was respectfully curious.”

Micah points at me. “You stared at my ass for four days.”

“Because you were moving like your hips had been recalled by the manufacturer.”

Griffin chokes on his drink.

Ronan's mouth twitches.

Micah looks toward the ceiling as if requesting intervention from a higher power.

Dex is nearly folded over the table.

Austin's voice comes from the laptop. “Do I want to know?”

“No,” four men say together.

I consider it. “Maybe.”

“Cami,” Micah warns.

I grin. “Fine. Privacy. Boundaries. Personal autonomy. Whatever.”

“Very convincing,” Ronan says.

I smile sweetly at him.

He returns to his laptop.

Micah's mouth curves despite himself.

That matters more than the joke.

He laughs more now.

Not every day.

Not the same as before.

There are still moments when his phone lights up, and something in his face closes. He still disappears onto the porch sometimes, and Dex doesn't always follow him anymore because I think they've both figured out the difference between alone and abandoned.

There are names I haven't heard him mention since his parents' house.

There are others—Abigail, mostly—that come up every few days.