Damon's POV
The café overlooked the river that cut through the city. It was quiet and private. Exactly the kind of place Ryder would choose when he wanted a conversation that wouldn't be overheard.
I spotted him immediately. He lounged in the opposite chair like he owned the room, legs stretched out, that same cocky grin he'd worn back in college.
We hadn't seen each other in years, yet the familiarity settled over us like a second skin.
"Still brooding like the weight of the world's on your shoulders, Hawthorne?" he teased, swirling his glass. "Some things never change."
I managed a rough chuckle. "Some things shouldn't. How the hell have you been, Ryder? Last I heard, you were chasing skirts across three continents."
Ryder laughed. "Chasing more than skirts these days, actually. Me
