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The walk down the street feels lighter than it did on the way up. Leaves crunch under my boots and there are people passing candy out everywhere, commenting on our costumes, but I am a man on a mission, and I think Felicity knows it.

She swings our joint hands. “That was fun tonight.”

I don’t know if she means making out by the stairs or the costumes or the fire or what, but I’m nodding. “Really fun.”

“Honestly,” she says, smiling up at me, “it made me kind of forget about the whole…search thing with Mom.”

A tiny seed of hope barrels into my chest. “So you don’t want to keep looking for Jersey Guy?”

“No, no. I do! It was just nice to take a day off from thinking about it, you know? Everything about it feels kind of off? Like there’s some big piece I’m missing from the puzzle. I can’t get ahold of that Cricket girl and there’s been nothing about the jersey search.”

With the topic change, our pace has slowed. She must notice because she squeezes my hands and pulls tight against me.

“Sorry, that’s not what this is about.”

“I don’t mind. If you think we should try to look for something tonight—”

“No, nothing else tonight. I just want us to hang out without…anything else going on.”

I smile. “That sounds nice.”

Riley’s house comes into view, and we curve around the mailbox. Felicity steps up first with her keys in hand. A warm light glows from the window, and the porch is completely quiet compared to farther down the street.

“She probably won’t be home for a while,” Felicity says as she slips the key into the door knob to unlock it, but it’s already unlocked. “Huh, I swear I locked it earl—”

The door swings open, and I’m met with an immediate answer as to why her words were suddenly cut off.

Because with the door wide open, and a single table lamp on, both of us stay completely frozen as we take in the sight before us.

On the couch is the most downright disturbing thing I’ve seen: Riley in an angel costume leaning back against the cushions with a guy lying over her. They’re definitely kissing, hands tangled close and familiar, and honestly, had we arrived ten minutes later, I would assume it would have been far more than just making out going on here.

Felicity’s jaw drops, nose curling in disgust as there is clearly no mistake to be made here.

The man facing away from us turns just enough that I can get a glimpse of his profile, and it takes me a solid minute of blinking to realize it’s Rowen.

Felicity’s boss and her aunt on the living room couch—no misunderstandings, no near misses. We’ve stumbled upon something we can’t unsee, and there’s no going back.

Felicity slams the door shut, and both of them quickly shoot up, staring at the two of us.

Every one of us stays silent for so long that it’s almost a dare to see who could possibly come up with something to say to this.

Rowen lifts up, quickly standing, and Riley follows him, both blushing and trying their hardest to explain things, but Rowen’s voice is the one that comes through the most clear. “Flick, I’m so sorry, I know this is weird. Just, let me try to explain. I didn’t think you’d be here; I thought y’all would be out for a while, and I wasn’t…we weren’t… I didn’t plan this.”

He keeps trying to explain, but it goes ignored as Felicity is still frozen, staring at…his stomach?

I shift my eyes from Riley’s and Rowen’s guilty faces to take in his shirt.

To take in his jersey, more like it. To take in the number written right across the front.

Number 32.

Chapter Thirty-Four Flick

My whole body shivers at the image I can’t erase—Rowen and Riley tangled together on the couch, her hands in his hair, his jersey bunched up in her fists.

His jersey. His stupid red jersey with that stupid number thirty-two and my stupid, ridiculous heart for honestly never picking up on the signs or even considering the guy I’ve spent over a month searching for was one I saw nearly every day. Even as I sprint out the front door into the orange glow of the string lights, I blink and it’s still there. That number flashing in my mind. Their…kiss flashing in my mind.

Of all people, it had to be him. I had to find out it was him by the stupid number on his shirt while he was making out with Riley under my own roof.