46 TOBIAS
T he city skyline glowed faintly in the rearview mirror as the truck rumbles down the highway. Corey taps his fingers against the steering wheel, his usual calm demeanor replaced with something more pensive.
I lean back in the passenger seat, the silence between us thick but not uncomfortable. We’ve been through too much for awkward silences.
“You think she’ll go for it?” Corey finally asks, breaking the quiet.
His voice even, but I catch the faint edge of uncertainty.
“Rhea?” I glance at him, my tone dry. “She’s not exactly the type to shy away from a fight. But this isn’t a fight. It’s a fresh start. She might bite.”
“Might,” Corey repeats, his jaw tightening. “But she’s got roots here. That apartment, her friends, the clinic gig coming up. This isn’t just about us.”
“She’s not just about us either,” I say, staring out the window.
The streetlights blur past, casting streaks of light across the interior of the truck.
“But she’s not the kind of person who’ll stick to one path if it doesn’t feel right. She’ll adapt. She always does.”
Corey chuckles, a low, warm sound. “You sound like you’ve got her all figured out.”
“Nah,” I say, shaking my head. “She’s a mystery wrapped in chaos. But I know enough to guess she’ll see the logic in this. A clean break. New location. No more underground crap. Just a bar.
Normalcy. That’s what she’s been pushing for, right?”
“Normalcy,” Corey echoes, his voice tinged with sarcasm.
“Says one of the guys who walked into her life and turned it upside down.”
I smirk. “You started it. I just followed your lead.”
He shoost me a sideways glance, his lips quirking.
“And now we’re here. Selling the bar, moving cities, trying to convince the woman we’re all tangled up with to come with us. Sounds like a bad rom-com.”
“Except no one’s laughing,” I say, leaning my head against the window. The hum of the tires on the pavement was almost soothing.
“And the stakes are a little higher than a misunderstanding at a wedding.” He sighs, running a hand over his shaved head. “Yeah. No kidding. You think Julian’s on board?”
“Julian’s always on board,” I say. “He’ll follow wherever Rhea goes. He’s not subtle about it.”
“Neither are you,” He points out, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something I couldn’t quite place.
“Subtlety’s overrated,” I say, shrugging. “Better to be upfront.
Less room for misunderstandings.”
“Spoken like a man who’s never had to navigate a relationship with more than one person involved,” Corey says, his voice low.
I turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “You saying you’re not cut out for this?” He’s quiet for a moment, his grip tightening on the wheel. “I’m saying it’s uncharted territory. For all of us. And if we’re going to make it work, we need to be on the same page.”
“We will be,” I say, my voice firm. “We’ve dealt with worse. This?
This is just logistics.” He laughs, the sound easing the tension in the cab. “Logistics.
Right. Because moving cities and uprooting our lives is just a matter of packing boxes.”
“And hiring a good moving truck,” I add, deadpan.
He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. “You’re insane.”
“Insane, maybe. But I’m here. And so are you. So we’ll figure it out.” T he garage apartment ' s stairs creak under our feet as Corey and I climb up to Julian's place. The evening air is cool, carrying the scent of impending rain.
"You think he's even awake?" I ask, noting the darkness behind his windows.
"It's Julian. He's probably doing push-ups in the dark," Corey says, rapping his knuckles against the door.
A light flicks on, and Julian's voice carries through. "Door's open."
We step inside to find him sprawled on the couch, ice pack on his shoulder, reading something on his phone. "To what do I owe this late-night visit from the dynamic duo? Although you two are rather ugly, I'd much rather see Rhea."
"Asshole. We're thinking of taking her somewhere nice," I say, leaning against the wall. "All of us. Together."
Julian sits up, wincing slightly. "Like a date? An actual, proper date?"
"That's the idea," Corey says, settling into an armchair.
"Something normal. No underground fights, no drama, no blood."
"Maybe a mini vacation somewhere tropical, maybe some dancing," I add. "Though I'm not dancing."
Julian's lips curve into a smirk. "Big man's got two left feet?"
"More like I don't want to embarrass you three with my superior moves," I deadpan.
"There's this new place across town," Julian says, sitting up straighter. "Live jazz, good food. Rhea mentioned wanting to check it out last week."
Corey nods slowly. "Could work. We could all clean up nice, make a real evening of it, then board a plane for wherever the hell we decide to go."
"I'm in," Julian says, tossing his ice pack aside. "But who's asking her? And what's the catch."
Corey and I exchange glances.
"Oh fuck, you two haven't told her about selling the bar yet have you?" He says, eyes shooting daggers.
"It may have slipped my mind…" I add.
Three grown men, suddenly awkward about asking a woman on a date.
"Jesus fuck. Rock, paper, scissors?" Julian suggests with a grin.