Holden was quiet. The trail curved around a bend, and the town fell away behind us, just mountains and sky and the sound of our boots on packed dirt. The cold bit at my cheeks, my ears, found every gap in my layers. I'd worn the wrong jacket again.
“When did you stop?” he asked.
“Stop what?”
“Caring what he thought.”
I didn't have an answer for that. Or maybe I did, but it was too new to say out loud. Something about the shop. About Prospect Ridge. About a grumpy florist who showed up at dog exchanges even when he was busy as hell.
“I'm working on it,” I said.
Holden's arm came around my shoulders.
He didn't say anything. Just pulled me against his side, his arm heavy and solid across my back.
The weight of it registered first. Not oppressive, just present. Then the warmth, bleeding through my jacket, cutting through the January chill. His hand curled around my upper arm, fingers spanning more of it than seemed possible, holding me against him like he was worried I might drift away.
I fit there.
That was the part that caught me off guard. The way my body settled into the curve of his side without having to adjust, without having to make myself smaller or taller or different. My head tucked under his chin, and the height difference that should have been awkward just wasn't. I leaned into him, tall and strong and warmth, closing my eyes as I caught the scent of his aftershave.
His arm spanned my shoulders completely. Not claiming. Not performing. Just holding me like he wanted to hold me.
Landon used to put his arm around me too. In public, at parties, when he wanted people to see us together. But it always felt like a claim. Like he was showing me off, or marking territory, or performing the role of boyfriend for an audience.
This didn't feel like that.
This felt like being held by someone who wanted me close, and this was how he knew to say it. No audience. No performance. Just his arm around me and the mountains going pink in the distance and the dogs trotting ahead like nothing unusual was happening.
I fit under his chin like I was made to be there. And for the first time in longer than I could remember, being small next to someone didn't make me feel small. It made me feel safe. Covered. Like Holden's size wasn't something that diminished me. It was something that made space for me.
The realization didn't hit all at once. It built, slow and undeniable, with every step we took together. The way my body kept leaning into his warmth. The way my breathing had synced with his without me noticing. The way I kept wanting to turn my face into his chest and just stay there.
Oh, I thought. And then, with growing certainty:Oh, fuck.
This wasn't just attraction. This wasn't just the fake dating arrangement blurring at the edges. This was something that had been building since the first day, since he'd walked into the park and kissed me in front of Landon without a second thought. This was the kind of feeling that could wreck me if I let it, the kind that made me want to stay, want to build something, want to believe that this quiet, grumpy, gentle man might actually want me back.
We finished the loop like that, his arm around my shoulders, my body pressed against his side, Marceline and Bubblegum trotting ahead through patches of old snow. The cold didn't seem so bad anymore. The trail opened up to a viewpoint, and we stopped without discussing it, looking out at the valley below. Prospect Ridge looked small from up here, a cluster of buildings tucked into the foothills, smoke rising from chimneys.
I kept my mouth shut, because some things were easier if you didn't name them. But I knew. Walking that trail with Holden's arm around me and the dogs leading the way and the mountains going pink in the fading light, I knew this was different. He was different.
And I wanted this to be real.
By the time we got back to the park, the sun had nearly set. My face was numb, my toes were questionable, and I was happier than I'd been in weeks.
Holden finally dropped his arm. The cold rushed into the space where he'd been, and I had to stop myself from leaning back toward his warmth.
“I should get back to the shop,” he said.
“Yeah.” I wrapped Bubblegum's leash tighter around my hand. “Working tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Saturday orders.”
“We'll be there by nine.”
“You sure?”
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
