Page 67 of Up in Smoke

I lean toward the window and take a peek, chuckling at the scene. I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried. Heston isbenchpressing in fucking jeans. It’s not a shock to find him, Warren, and Gage working out from time to time out there.

Not me. I’m more of a cardio guy, and my methods of exercise don’t involve being outside in the middle of this damn heat.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But summer’s here, and I’ve seen all of their girls in sundresses. Pretty sure they lift weights so they can fight. They’re idiots.”

“That—sounds about right, actually.” Mesa clutches her stomach and laughs for a good ten seconds. “Blythe and Savannah? Yeah, I’d be chugging protein shakes like they were water. But Heston has a girl?”

I blow out an exasperated breath that puffs my cheeks out. “Loaded question.”

She throws her bags, which might weigh a metric ton, next to my dresser. Her back seems stiff, and she flops down on the long, narrow bench at the end of the bed frame. I wince, knowing the things the old me has done on that bench. It needs to be tossed. Badly.

“Give me the loaded answer, then.”

“Not my story to tell. I don’t really know every detail anyway.”

“You’ve lived with Heston since you were how old?”

“Eighteen.”

“And y’all have matching best friend tattoos?”

I roll my eyes. One of them is misspelled, but it still counts. “Yes.”

“Yet you’re saying you don’t know every detail? Yeah, right.”

“Swear. He doesn’t talk about it. He’s been hung up on the same girl since before Gage and Blythe even got together. Don’t bring it up around him. Trust me.”

She crosses her legs and leans back on her hands while letting out a low and slow whistle. “Do you know her?”

“Yeah,” I answer with a sigh. “She practically lived here at one point in time. Then, poof. One day she just skipped town.”

“Do you think she’ll ever come back?”

I open my mouth to answer her question, but before I do, I remember that Mesa knows her. She’s fuckingfriendswith her. I rub the back of my neck and twist my face.

“Well, I think she already has. It’s, uh—it’s Hattie.”

Mesa shoots up to a full sitting position. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth hangs open. I brace myself with a wince.

“Hattie. Do you mean Hattie Jo? As in, my friend, Hattie Jo?”

I nod reluctantly. “Just a warning—the girls hate her by proxy. Sorry you’re in the middle of it.”

“I mean . . . I get it. I guess,” she says with a frown. “That little hussy. She never said a thing to me about this.”

“That tracks. Heston hasn’t breathed a word about it, either. Bad blood.”

Mesa’s face falls, and her empathetic side takes over. “Poor Hattie.”

“Poor Heston,” I add. “I don’t think he knows she’s back in town.”

Mesa flops to her back, and I move to lie next to her and match her position.

“I wouldn’t fuss over it, Mace,” I say. “We've got enough to worry about already.”

We turn our heads toward each other at the same time. I’d like to hold her hand, but I keep mine folded over my stomach like hers. I don’t know how long we stay like that, but it feels like ten minutes have passed before she speaks up in a soft voice.

“How are you feeling about last night?”

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