The dogs sensed it too. Bubblegum pressed against Jamie's ankle. Marceline had stopped straining at her leash and was watching Landon with her ears flat.
I should walk away. This wasn't my business. I barely knew Jamie Redford, and getting involved in whatever this was would be complicated and messy and everything I'd spent years avoiding.
But Landon was still talking, voice low enough now that I couldn't make out the words, and Jamie was still shrinking, eyes blinking fast, and something in me fucking snapped.
I don't remember crossing the street.
My boots were loud on the frozen ground. Landon heard me coming and turned, his expression shifting from surprise to something harder when he registered who I was.
“Holden Hutchinson.” He said my name like it tasted sour. “Didn't expect to see you emerge from your little shop.”
I didn't answer him. I walked straight past him, like I didn't see him, my eyes locked on Jamie, who stared back at me in surprise. I put my arm around Jamie's shoulders and pulled him tight against my side.
Jamie went rigid. His head tilted back, way back, the angle sharp, and his eyes were wide, confused, a little desperate.
Then I bent down and kissed him.
It was meant to be quick. Performative. Just enough to sell the lie I hadn't planned until thirty seconds ago.
But Jamie's mouth was soft, and he made a small sound of surprise against my lips. The leashes went slack in his grip as he stopped resisting the dogs' pull, stopped resisting anything, and then his free hand came up and fisted in my collar. He pulled me down, actually pulled, like he was the one in control despite the foot of height between us. The kiss shifted into something else entirely.
Softer. Slower. His lips parted, and I forgot we had an audience. Forgot we were standing in a public park in January. When was the last time someone kissed me like this, sweet and hungry and perfect? My hand slid from his shoulder to the back of his neck, fingers threading through the waves of hair at his nape, and he pressed closer, the leashes wrapped around his other wrist as he flattened his palm against my chest.
When we finally broke apart, I was breathing harder than I wanted to admit.
Jamie's eyes were bright, his cheeks flushed. His hand was still twisted in my shirt.
“Hey,” I said. Rough. Stupid. The only word I could find.
“Hey yourself.” His voice was barely a whisper.
I straightened but kept my arm around him, pulling him into my side. Then I glanced over at Landon with what my grandma would've called my “mean mug.”
He was staring. The smugness had cracked, replaced by something I couldn't read. His jaw was tight, his posture stiff. He looked between us like he was trying to solve a puzzle that didn't make sense.
Turning back to Jamie, I said, “I brought you something.” I held the arrangement out to Jamie, keeping my voice casual. Like this was normal. Like I brought my boyfriend flowers all the time. “For the new place. Thought it could use some color.”
Jamie took the flowers, slightly crushed by our kiss. His hands were trembling, but he played along, tucking the arrangement against his chest like it was precious. “They're beautiful. Thank you.”
The card slipped.
The envelope slid free from the stems, caught the wind, and fluttered to the frozen ground. Landon was closer. He bent and scooped it up before either of us could react.
Landon turned it over. His thumb brushed the seal, and then he was pulling out the card, reading the words I'd written this morning.
You're more than enough. Remember that.
Landon's face went still. The the mask slipped, and underneath I saw a flicker of something that might have been guilt. Or recognition. When he looked up, his eyes landed on me.
“Didn't realize you two were together,” he said. Flat. Careful.
I held his gaze. “Now you do.”
Another beat of silence. Landon looked at Jamie, then at the flowers, then at the card still in his hand. I watched him recalculating, trying to fit this new information into whatever story he'd been telling himself about his ex.
He handed the card back. Not to Jamie, but to me. His fingers were stiff, and he didn't quite meet my eyes.
“Well then,” he said with a bitter laugh that didn't mask his shock. “I guess I'll leave you to your… whatever this is.” He held his hand out for the leashes. “Same time next week?”
