I shrug. “Not really. Even if he does, I’m sure Jake will just punch him again.” Logan and Cam spit out their beer simultaneously, and Dylan cusses. Logan glares at me, bug-eyed. “He punched that asshole?” I nod slowly. “Which hand?” Dylan asks. What? Behind me, Jake raises his right hand, bringing on a tirade of name-calling and questions from the guys. “It’s fine!” he yells above them all.
