Dean nodded, eyes still scanning the streets.
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” I murmured, smiling faintly. “I didn’t move on, Dean. I upgraded.”
Dean didn’t respond. He just clenched the steering wheel tighter like he aimed to break it, jaw taut, eyes narrowed on the road.
I didn’t expect a comeback. That wasn’t a line that needed answering.
Fifteen minutes later, we pulled into the lot of a high-end mall on the edge of town. I had asked him to swing by just on a hunch—Chloe was vain, and if she was upset, there were only two things she did: cry to Dad or blow money she didn’t make herself.
We walked in. I scanned the boutiques, my sandals sliding across the glossy marble. Dean was a step ahead of me, hyper-focused, protective, like he was scouring a war zone. His hands running th
