Harper’s POV
"Where's Eric?" I scanned the pub, weaving between low-lit booths and the thrum of late-night noise.
"Over here!" his voice rang out from the back.
He waved both arms above a table cluttered with shot glasses, an untouched bowl of peanuts, and enough empty bottles to supply a recycling drive.
I practically jogged over. "Eric, how much have you had?"
He stood—barely—and pulled me into a clumsy hug. “I missed you, friend”
The way his chin rested on top of my head like we were puzzle pieces that somehow still fit after all these years… it wasn’t fair.
"Okay, drama boy. Let’s get you some water—"
"I broke up with Historia," he blurted, eyes glassy.
I blinked. “You what?”
"She said I don’t like her. That I spend too much time with other people. With work. That I’m too...
