“Saxon…”
His eyes hold mine like he’s holding something back. Something sharp. Something forbidden. Something that tastes like yes. But then someone calls his name from across the lawn and the spell breaks.
He steps back slowly, jaw tight, like it physically costs him to pull away. I exhale shakily as he turns to leave. But before he does, he glances at me again—one last look that drags across my skin and leaves everything smoldering.
“See you around, sunshine,” he murmurs.
And then he disappears into the festival lights leaving me standing there with my heart racing and the spark between us blazing hotter than anything I’m ready for.
Chapter Six
Saxon
I’m halfway through a routine fire inspection at the elementary school—routine only because I keep making excuses to be here—when I hear raised voices down the hall.
One of them is Briar’s.
The other is male.
I know her voice.
I know her laugh.
And I know the quiet panic threading through her tone right now.
I follow the sound before I think it through, boots hitting the linoleum in slow, heavy thuds that echo too loud in my chest.
She’s outside the principal’s office, facing a guy in a button-down that looked expensive once but now just looks greasy. He stands too close. He talks too loud. And he keeps stabbing the air with a clipboard like he’s lecturing her. Her ex.
Her shoulders are tight. Her face is pale. And the second she spots me, something like relief flashes in her eyes.
I don’t stop walking.
The guy doesn’t notice me until I’m two feet behind her.
“For the last time, Briar,” he snaps, “I’m not signing anything until I know Junie has a stable home environment. I’m her father. I have a right to make sure she’s not living with?—”
“With what?” she fires back, voice thin. “With me? Her mother?”
“With poor decision-making,” he says coldly.
My jaw flexes so hard it pops.
She breathes in sharply, voice shaking. “You haven’t visited in six months. You don’t call. You don’t check in. You don’t even know what size shoes she wears.”
“That’s not the point,” he says, exasperated. “You’re asking for placement in a special academic program. That requires signatures and stability. You can’t just fly by the seat of your pants, Bri.”
Her shoulders shake once—anger, humiliation, fear, maybe all three.
I step in.
“Problem here?” I ask, voice low enough that even he flinches.
He turns. Looks me up and down like he’s trying to size me up. Poor bastard doesn’t realize I’ve already decided I don’t like him.
“And so we meet again.”
Briar exhales, barely audible.
