I study the convo between Abby and Ryan. He’s confirming that I’m going to Chris’s grandfather’s farm in southern Kentucky again and baling hay for the week. We’ve been doing it for the past few years. It’s backbreaking work, but we make nice money. Abby demanded we take her along, signing her text as Abby, Queen of Logan’s World. Ryan told her she had to talk to me.

“It’s boys only,” I say.

“Rules don’t apply to me. You should know that by now. Anyhow, you guys let me hang when you baled hay at Chris’s farm.”

“That was one day and this will be for a week. Camping and dirt your thing, Abby?”

“I can make anything my thing.”

I believe that.

“I heard that Noah and Isaiah are going. Noah’s going to use that money to buy Echo an engagement ring.”

I heard the same thing from Noah, Isaiah’s best friend, but it’s not my business. “Point?”

“If Noah gets to go, I want to go. Maybe I want to buy myself a diamond ring.”

“You’re going to help bale hay?”

Abby scowls. “Hell, no. I just want to go and get paid.”

I laugh, she smiles and the drummer of the band onstage begins the count. For the third time this evening, the electric guitarist comes in late and starts off beat. I came here tonight because I heard this band was on the verge of kicking him out. I’ve been searching for a new high, at least for the summer, and this just might be it.

“Dance with me, Logan.”

That rips my attention away from the guy making a fool of himself onstage. I examine Abby and wonder what piece she just moved on the chessboard. Wouldn’t put it past Abby to sacrifice a pawn in order to kill a queen. Abby is nothing if not strategic.

“I don’t dance.” I don’t.

She slowly raises her eyebrows, and I fight the tilt of my lips. Abby doesn’t like being told no. “You’ll dart into traffic to run after a stranger’s balloon, but you won’t dance with me?”

I ran into traffic because I was curious if I could make it to the other side. The balloon made it interesting. “I don’t dance with anyone.”

“You were the one that suggested we come here.”

I shrug. I’m here because an opportunity presented itself and I’m fascinated by the new and shiny.

“Dance with me, Logan,” she says again, and I have to admit I like how her hips sway to the music. “Why else would you come here if it wasn’t to touch me on the dance floor?”

I chuckle because that caught me off guard and Abby laughs, her real laugh. It doesn’t happen often and I like when it does.

“Rachel said she wanted to dance,” I say.

And she is, with Isaiah. While everyone else is grinding it out to the hard beat, Isaiah is slow dancing with his girl. Her head’s on his shoulder, his arms are wound tight around her waist. They look like they could die now and wouldn’t notice they had landed in heaven since they’re already there. That right there is love and it’s one in a million.

I’m not foolish enough to believe I’ll find something like Isaiah and Rachel share, but I’m fine with that. Emotions are overrated.

My cell buzzes on the table and I swipe it before Abby can read this one. Dad: Stay out of trouble. I texted your mom to see if she knew you needed to be up in the morning for the meeting and she said you never told her. Don’t do this, Logan. Not again.

My jaw twitches with annoyance. I shove my phone into my pocket. Abby’s watching me with a baffled expression, which means she must have read over my shoulder. “That was sweet of him. What type of trouble is he referring to? The type where you drag race with Isaiah or where you jump out of towering trees or play in traffic?”

All things I’ve done and those weren’t even the top three dangerous feats I’ve taken on recently. “Remember when I told you to mind your own business?”

“That never happened. Get your memories straight. And what’s this meeting in the morning?”

Nothing I’m interested in attending. “Let it go.”

This time, Abby is the one who leans forward on the table and she knows what she’s doing as she hugs her waist so that her cleavage peeks out. She’s the tiger after her prey. “Now that I think about it, you never talk about your parents. In fact, you really don’t talk at all.”

“We talk.”

“We play,” she says, and my gaze meets hers with the raw honesty. “What was that text about?”

“Not your business.”

“Make it my business.”

“I’m telling you to back off.”

“Not sure if you noticed, but I’m not the back-off type.” Abby scans the room like she’s searching for someone, and it’s not the first time she’s done that tonight.

“Who are you searching for?” I ask.

She sneers, so I know I called that right. “I’m not looking for anyone.”

“You are.”

“Topic of conversation was you and your dad and that text. Stick with the subject.”

Anger begins to bubble up in my bloodstream. “I told you, let it go.”

As if she’s a toddler, Abby stomps her foot. “Well, I’m not. I want to know.”

Abby and I usually don’t play this way, but if she wants to go there, then I’m throwing both of us over the edge. “You’ve been off all night. Acting like the boogeyman is out to get you. What’s your deal?”