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“Thank you. You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because I am.”

But she’s not. She was laughing, all flushed and smiling, before she went to the bathroom. And disappeared. Whatever happened between then and now has her shutting me out.

“Why’d you leave? What happened?”

“Nothing. I was just tired.”

Bullshit.

“Laney.”

“I’m almost home.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Please just tell⁠—”

The call ends.

I pull the phone away from my ear.

“She did not.”

A text notification drops across the top of the screen before I can call her back.

Beckett: Mom says Laney went to the game tonight.

Of course, he fucking chooses this exact moment to text me.

Me: Yeah.

His reply comes almost immediately.

Beckett: She have fun?

I glance at the little car moving across the map.

Me: Think so.

Three dots appear.

Beckett: Good. Thanks for looking out for her, man.

Fuck me.

I stare at the message.

An hour ago, I had his little sister pinned between me and the bar while some guy tried to hit on her. Now she’s fleeing my company in an Uber.

Killing it, Bishop.