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Last night survives as fragments: the smell of beer, smoke from a grill, Logan laughing, Mason sitting unusually quiet, Jack listening. The next morning, I realized everyone remembered something I didn’t. The crew feels more like a family than a company. Jack Mercer owns the business, but nobody talks about him like a boss. Mason Briggs has a nose that’s been broken at least once and a habit of asking whether I’ve eaten lunch. Logan Chase wears a chain around his neck and a backward cap even when he’s working, as though construction is only a temporary stop on the way to something better. Somehow, all of us belong here. Logan spotted me first. A grin spread across his face. I frowned. “What?” He glanced toward Jack’s office. “What? You wanted the ride home to last longer?” Before I could answer, he laughed. “Relax. Just kidding.” The grin lingered after he walked away. Mason found me later. His heavy boots stopped beside me. “You weren’t bothered, right?” “By what?” For a moment, he looked genuinely confused. “Never mind.” Near lunch, Jack approached. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, fine dust clinging to his forearms. “You made it in on time.” “Barely.” A faint smile appeared and vanished. “You don’t remember much from last night, do you?” I shook my head. “I remember getting drunk.” Jack studied me for a moment. A memory surfaced then: headlights cutting through darkness, the steady hum of his truck, his hands resting on the steering wheel while his voice carried through the cab. I couldn’t remember a single word. Only the feeling that the conversation had mattered. “I see,” Jack said. For the rest of the day, I couldn’t stop thinking about the three of them. Logan grinned. Mason asked a question he never explained. Jack waited for me to remember. Whatever happened last night, it seemed to belong to everyone else.