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Taylor slowly stands. “You don’t even know what he did, man.”

“Don’t care.”

“Christian—”

Logan slides off the couch and grabs his keys from his pocket. “I’ll drive.”

Salem whirls on him. “You’re kidding me. You too?”

“Sal,” he says softly, almost pleading. That’s all it takes for her to look away with her jaw clenched.

Then Owen clears his throat, surprising everyone. “I’ll come, too.”

Logan frowns. “Babe, you don’t have to.”

“I know.” He tucks his hair behind his ear and sets his drink down. “But if this goes south again, you’ll both need a getaway driver, and⁠—”

“What do you mean again?” Logan asks, brows slamming down. Owen pales, his eyes wide as saucers.

I tug Logan’s arm toward the door with a sigh. “Come on, hermano. We'll tell you on the way.”

“Christian, wait,” Taylor calls my name, and I look over my shoulder to find him chewing his lip. The sight makes my heart hurt. “We're still going riding later, right? Birthday tradition?”

Fuck. This doesn't feel right. All the vibes are off in our friendship and I feel like it's all my fault.

I swallow hard, forcing out a laugh that sounds nothing like me. “Yeah, about that… uh, bike’s out of commission right now.”

Liar, liar.

His brow creases. “Since when?”

“Since yesterday.” The lie rolls off my tongue too smoothly. “Throttle’s been sticking. Haven't gotten a chance to fix her yet.”

“Well, shit, man. I'll come over after dinner and help you tune her up⁠—”

“No,” I interrupt, a little too harshly. Taylor's face twists in confusion, but I force myself to toss him an easy grin. “It's your birthday, cariño. Relax with your man. Eat some cake. I got it.”

Tay studies me closely. “You sure?”

“Positive. I’ll catch you later.”

His lips twitch like he wants to say something, but Huck distracts him by calling his name from the kitchen.

I don’t wait for him to turn back around, choosing to slip through the door instead. Owen and Logan are waiting by the car, headlights cutting through the dark, and I take a deep breath before making my way down the steps.

“Everything good?” Logan asks, sliding behind the wheel.

“Yeah. Just peachy.”

Once we're all buckled up, we pull away from the curb, and city lights pass by in streaks of golden shadow. Somewhere in the back of my head, I hear Taylor’s voice again.

“We’re still going riding later, right?”

Yeah. Sure.

Right after I dig myself out of this fucking grave.

CHAPTER EIGHT