Chapter Forty-Three
The greasy smell of fries and fried chicken clung to Ryan’s hoodie by the time he and Evan staggered out of the all-night diner, arms overloaded with takeout bags. Ryan kicked the door open with his foot, balancing three sodas against his chest like some overburdened circus act. Evan laughed under his breath, juggling a paper bag dangerously close to splitting. “You sure you got it, Hercules?” Evan teased, eyes twinkling. Ryan grinned — easy, reckless. “I’ll die for these nuggets if I have to,” he declared. “Hero’s death,” Evan agreed solemnly. They made it to Ryan’s beat-up Honda without casualties, dumping the food onto the backseat in a glorious, greasy heap. Ryan cracked a soda, took a sip, and slumped against the driver’s seat with a sigh that felt heavier than the night. He
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