“Well, I don’t know much about flying,” Sam said. “But I do know that lying down for dead isn’t much your style, Pike, and neither is choosing the easy way out of things. If that day did anything, it was solidify what everyone already knows—that you’re the best of the best. Not a single fucking casualty.”

“He’s right.” Mateo nodded. “I’ll accept it if you don’t go because of your mom and Addy. I’m still making you move out,” he acknowledged lightheartedly, “but don’t pass on this opportunity because you’re afraid to fail.”

“That just makes you a pussy,” Echo added bluntly.

A terse laugh shot out of me. “I’ll take it all into consideration.”

“Take the girl into consideration too, while you’re at it,” Sam suggested. “Sweetens the deal doesn’t it? Something to come home to.”

The thought of walking through the door every day to a waiting and willing Ophelia made the center of my chest do that aching, uncomfortable thing again like coiling barbed wire around an organ.

“We’re friends,” I forced myself to say. “She’s a good girl, and a good friend. I needed to get myself out there again after Vanessa.”

“Vanessa?” Tyler’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “You haven’t gotten fucked since Vanessa?”

“Give him a break,” Cap urged.

“You may screw a new chick every weekend but none of us have a date for the wedding in June,” I pointed out.

“Doesn’t Natalia have, like, three sisters?” Tyler asked, flicking his own bottle cap at me. “I’d be a fucking fool not to show up hungry to a buffet.”

“Not happening.” Mateo put a foot down. “My sister-in-laws are off-limits. It’s nonnegotiable.”

Tyler smiled. “We’ll see.”

I tipped back in my chair, taking in the full curve of a waxing moon. The stars were all out, blinking rhythmically. Brisk air burned the shallow wells of my nostrils and the corners of my mouth tipped up. “I missed you guys.”

36

My previous New Year's Eve looked a lot different than this one. I was snowed in by myself as Pine Ridge endured a record accumulation for the last day of December. There wasn’t a car on the road that wasn’t a plow, and if you could even see out your windows past six o’clock, there was nothing but a blanket of powdery white reflecting the moon and turning the outside one muted shade of gray.

I had curled up on the couch in the baggiest pair of sweats I owned, a monochromatic green number that made me look like a peapod, shoved my face full of cheese puffs because there wasn’t a Postmates in the state delivering, and indulged in the trashiest reality dating show I could find.

I laughed, I cried, I ironically screamed at the women on my television for not recognizing a man’s blatantly obvious red flags. By the time I remembered to check the clock it was after midnight and I’d entirely missed the ball drop to ring in the new year. In lieu of champagne I did a shot of tequila and sent myself to bed.

Miami Beach was so far removed from Pine Ridge they might as well be on opposite poles. Spending the night in a swanky downtown hotel and pregaming with bottles of Veuve Clicquot was even more out of my element. Despite the promising night ahead, I was still painfully aware of the dwindling hours I had left in Florida.

We split into two cars for the drive south, Sam and the soon-to-be Durans in one car and Frankie and I with the company of Tyler in another. Echo was a talker, filling every spare second of quiet with a story or a joke. I got an earful about Frankie in Delta, his aversion to the bugs in the jungle, creative ways he found to make freeze-dried meals more palatable, the little battery-powered sound machine he kept in his sleeping bag that was the butt of many jokes.

Tyler’s booming laugh was so infectious that by the time we arrived in the Magic City the muscles in my cheeks were tired and aching. He slung not only his bag but mine and Frankie’s over his shoulder like a bundle of groceries and smooth-talked us all into a luxury suite at the top of the tower.

“That upgrade will go straight to his head,” Frankie said.

“He’s got what they callje ne sais quoi.” I shrugged.

“Or a venereal disease that sounds close to it.”

I elbowed Frankie between the ribs, digging the sharp bone in as deep as I could to get a rise out of him. He only pulled me closer, hooking his arm around my shoulders until my nose was level with his armpit and I got a full musky inhale of sandalwood and sweat. I’d grown so fond of the way he smelled: fresh out of the shower, after sex, in the middle of the day as I shoved my face into his shirt.

The lobby was massive with golden vaulted ceilings, chandeliers hanging like spiderwebs, avant-garde indoor fountains, and lush potted Zanzibar. Music echoed against the walls from somewhere deeper in the hotel, and the sound of Natalia’s heels striking tile stood out against the hum of a hundred conversations.

Frankie’s lips connected with the top of my head and he twirled a strand of my hair around his finger. He was so naturally and physically affectionate, something I realized was never notable with other men I dated, and I was going to crave that type of intimacy when it was gone.

“I missed you last night,” I said. We fell behind our group, watching the bob of Tyler’s close-cropped head weave in and out of the busy main level. “Nat isn’t much of a big spoon.”

“You could have texted me,” Frankie acknowledged. “I would have, but I didn’t want to pressure you too much. Things are weird right now.”

Weird was putting it in a more quirky, less honest, and painful way. Fortunately there was nothing a good few drinks couldn’t dull the sharp stab of. Even so, ignoring something so blatantly apparent was immature and burdensome and it was much better to be in agreement.