The bar was dimly lit, the kind of place where secrets felt safe behind heavy velvet curtains and the low, smoky hum of jazz music drifting from a corner stage. Soft golden light from antique chandeliers danced across polished wood and crystal glasses, casting long shadows that hid more than they revealed. Laura’s arm brushed against mine as we stepped inside, her blonde hair catching the glow like strands of sunlight in the dark. We made quite the pair—me, Brandi Moore, with my warm tan skin, long dark waves cascading down my back, and hazel eyes that had witnessed far too much of life’s rough edges, and her, Laura, all...