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Fairhope has never loved me.

So it shouldn’t care that I stopped loving it too.

“That was fast,” I say when a can of beer appears in my line of sight. I take it out of Jalen’s hand as I stare at the town below. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

My fingers freeze around the can.

That isn’t Jalen’s voice.

It’s Milo’s.

I crack open the beer and take a long swig, refusing to look at him.

He doesn’t say anything either. He just stands beside me, close enough that his familiar scent reaches places I’ve tried to keep hidden, even from me.

I find myself holding my breath, so I don’t breathe him in.

But that plan goes to shit when he inches closer, making it pretty fucking impossible to ignore him.

“Nice night, huh?” he says softly.

Milo’s voice is still the same. Warm and smooth. Familiar enough to hurt.

Go away.

“I guess.”

A small chuckle escapes him, but even that sounds strained. Like he’s trying too hard to pretend this isn’t as awkward as it is.

I hate it.

Go away.

“Thanks for the beer. You can go now, Milo.”

“Can’t I just stand here with you for a while?”

No. Go away.

From the corner of my eye, I can see that he’s not looking at me. He’s pretending to be gazing over Fairhope too. He probably thinks that makes this easier on me.

It doesn’t.

“I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.”

More like one year, five months and one day. But who’s counting?

Please. Go away.

“I don’t have anything to say,” I reply curtly.

“Then I guess I’ll have to do all the talking for both of us.”

“Whatever.”

Go away, Milo. Please.