Page 101 of Dream Chaser
“Oh no, we’re doing Berlin,” Lexi hoots then looks at Hart. “You can come, too.”
“I’m not sure if I should feel honored or?—”
“Baby detail,” she interrupts him.
Baby detail …
Dinner’s done, table’s cleared. It was actually an excellent night. I mean, not as good as last night, or the night before that, but pretty damn cool.
“All right, I gotta dip,” Oz says, stretching as he stands. “Flight out of Syracuse in two hours.”
“All right, let’s roll,” I say, already fishing my keys out of my jacket.
He claps my shoulder. “Appreciate it, man.”
I turn to the group. “Later, kids. Nice pad, Iz and Mags.”
Lo blows a dramatic kiss. “Drive safe, lovebirds.”
Iz walks us to the door but doesn’t say much. Her eyes are quieter now. Wary.
“You good?” I whisper as I zip up my coat.
She nods. “Thanks for the grill and?—”
“That just means more parties.” Oz chuckles. “Once the damn weather changes.”
“Oh, that’s right, you’re heading from the south.” Iz smiles.
“Come with, Iz. There’s actually sun in other parts of the world.”
Never wanted to punch Oz in the face before now.
She rolls her eyes. “Appreciate it, but this girl must have all four seasons.”
“We’re gonna head out, too,” Boone says.
Chapter 21
Evening Invasion
Izzy
Lexi’s curled into the armchair with one of Aunt Isobel’s old quilts, her legs tucked up like a cat, lazily swiping through photos from the night on her phone. Mags is lying on the floor, dramatically sprawled like a martyr, a cold seltzer balanced on her forehead.
“I hate everyone,” Mags says to the ceiling.
Lexi doesn’t even look up. “Cool. Specificity is important.”
“Not hate. But, I mean, Lo, and Riley, and Syd,” she groans. “Like, Iz, you and I were totally screwed out of the silo house, and they didn’t know we had a place. But worse than that—they’re never around anymore. They’ve got babies, and broody husbands, and professional athletes to jump on whenever they want. Lexi’s going back in two days to do God only knows what, but I bet it’s fun as hell. And nowyou”—she lifts her seltzer toward me without sitting up—“soon, you’ll be off, too. Which leavesme, where?And like … what’s left of girls’ night?Of Mondays in pajama pants with no makeup and a bowl of whipped cream and a spoon.”
“First of all,” I say, sliding down the wall until I’m on the floor next to her, “you’re notleft.You’rehere,with me, with Lex. With this couch that sags a little too hard in the middle but still smells like cinnamon.”
“Like the legendary Aunt Isobel,” Lexi adds helpfully.
“Exactly. History.” I nudge Mags’ knee. “Second, you’re only upset about the silo house because it happens to be located at the brewery.”
“I love it there,” she admits quietly.
