The storm broke sometime after midnight, and Tank didn't sleep through any of it.
He sat in his usual booth with the lights off, watching rain sheet down the windows, listening to the thunder move east. His phone sat on the table between his hands. The text Maxine had shown him was still up on the screen.
*Dan saw your bike at the club last week. He's been drinking ever since, telling everyone he's going to come find you.*
Tank read it again. Then again.
Dan. The ex-boyfriend. The one who'd put a baby in her sister while Maxine was buying lingerie for his birthday. A man who lied for six months, then stood in her parents' office and let them throw her out.
Tank didn't know Dan. But he knew the type. Men like that didn't come back to apologize. They came back because they couldn't stan
