Vee's POV

I never should have stayed downstairs that long.

It was almost 2 a.m. on a sticky Friday night in June. The kind of night where the heat just presses in through the windows and doesn't leave, where everything feels a little slower than it should, a little closer. The house smelled like beer and microwave popcorn and something warmer underneath — the collective warmth of four guys who'd been in the same room for hours.

Logan's friends had shown up around nine. Quick gaming session, he'd said. Just the guys.

And then someone found the second case of beer in the garage, and nobody felt like driving anymore,...