Page 36 of Bend

Echo watches him like she’s enjoying the view. “Yeah,” she says softly, almost to herself. “Knew it.”

Thorne points at her with his drink. “You are a goddamn menace.”

Her smile only gets prettier. “And I think you like that.”

He opens his mouth to deny it.

Looks at her, then at me, and whatever he was about to say seems to die on the way out.

I hold his gaze for a beat too long on purpose, let him feel that I see straight through him, then lift my brows just slightly.

His expression says don’t, but mine, mine probably says too fucking late.

Echo laughs and slips out from between us, still holding our hands for half a second before letting go.

Thorne drags a hand through his hair and glances toward the front of the house. “As much as I’d love to stay here and let you keep stirring shit, it’s late, innit? We’ve gotta be at the garage early.”

As much as I hate how easily he’s dismissing whats clearly going on here, he’s right.

The party’s tipped into that loose, late-night blur now. The music is too loud, drinks half-finished on every flat surface, and everybody is a little warmer and messier than they were a couple hours ago.

Echo tips her head. “So go.”

Thorne snorts. “Alright. Cheers, sweetheart.”

I laugh and finish the last swallow of my beer. “Are you heading out too?”

“Eventually,” she says, continuing to sway to the music.

That answer sits wrong with me straight away.

Not because I think she can’t handle herself. She very obviously can. But she’s had a few drinks, the party’s getting sloppier by the minute, and I’ve seen enough late nights go sideways to know it only takes one bad decision, one creep reading the room wrong, one moment of thinking you’re fine when you’re just buzzed enough not to be careful.

“How’re you getting home?” I ask.

She lifts one shoulder, all casual. “Uh I don’t know yet, but it’s cool, I’ll figure it out when the time comes.”

“That’s a piss-poor idea, that.” Thorne says.

“Relax. I can just call a RideNow.”

I glance at the bottle still in her hand, then back at her face. “Or.”

Her eyes flick to mine, already knowing exactly where this is going.

“Or,” she repeats.

Thorne points at me with his bottle and lets out a knowing little laugh. “Yeah, I’ve clocked that look. He’s doing the whole knight-in-shining-armour bit. And I’m fine, before anyone says otherwise—only had one beer. I’m good to ride.”

“Same,” I say.

He nods once. “So let’s just take her home, yeah?”

I look back at Echo. “You’ve had a few drinks, and I’m not wild about the idea of you figuring it out on your own this late.”

Something shifts in her expression then. Small, but there.

Thorne catches it too, because his voice softens when he adds, “He’s right, love.”