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“I'd rather die.”

Taylor laughs before giving my shoulder one last squeeze. “Go home, man. Shower, smoke a blunt. Stop picking fights with people who love you.”

“Gross,” I mutter.

“Say it back.”

“Fuck off.”

“Close enough.” Grinning, he turns to head toward his truck. I watch him get in, wave as he pulls out of the parking lot, and only when his headlights disappear around the corner do I look at Devon.

He's already watching me closely, and the sight of him dressed in my jacket settles something inside of me, as wild as that sounds. Even though it shouldn't.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

My mouth twists into a grimace. “Don’t start. I can't handle more touchy-feely bullshit.”

“I didn’t know you were going through all that, hot shot.”

Yeah. No shit.

“That’s because it’s none of your fucking business.” Spinning on my heel, I pull out a smoke and march toward my Bronco. “Get in before I leave your ass.”

He follows silently, which somehow pisses me off more than if he’d kept running his mouth. A quiet Devon is dangerous. A quiet Devon means he’s thinking, and I don’t want him thinking about me. At least not like this. Vulnerable and lonely. Easy to hurt.

He already did that once, and I'm not giving him another chance to do it again.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Devon

Christian stays tense the entire ride back to his apartment.

As soon as he throws the vehicle in park, he's out of his seat and up the porch steps before I can even undo my seatbelt. I climb out slowly, gazing up at the night sky while I take a moment to breathe. There are no stars tonight, only clouds. Raindrops begin to dot the driveway.

With a shiver, I pull Christian's leather jacket tighter around me and follow him inside. He didn't ask for it back, so I'm not bringing it up. Honestly, I like being surrounded by something other than the smell of my own body odor. Makes it easier to shove that itch aside, the one begging me to turn around and find the only thing that can silence my brain.

When I step inside the apartment, Christian's already shut inside his room, but Logan and Owen are cuddled on the couch. They look up from whatever they're watching as I enter, and I suddenly feel awkward as fuck because… where the hell am I supposed to go? Not like I have a room here.

I just kinda stand near the kitchen island and shuffle my feet, weighing my options with a snarky comment on the tip of my tongue.

Well, don't you two look cozy.

The old me would have said it in a heartbeat. But that was before… everything. Before the crash, before Christian and Arya. Before I fell so far down the rabbit hole that I'll never be able to claw my way out.

Logan sighs heavily, interrupting my thoughts. “Movie's almost over,” he says, an arm slung around his boyfriend's shoulders. “Then we'll get out of your spot.”

My spot. Like I have any claim to Christian's couch?

Owen smiles sleepily and pats the cushion beside him. “You can sit. I promise I won't bite… hard.”

That has me tilting my head. The next words out of my mouth surprise even me. “You know Logan and I fucked once, right?”

Okay, so, shit. Maybe the old Dev is still in here somewhere.

Logan’s head whips around, amber eyes flashing, but his boyfriend just blinks.

“Uh, what does that have to do with sitting next to me?”