He considers this, frowning. Then his face brightens. “I believe in it,” he declares. “I think sometimes the universe just… knows.”
A low whistle cuts through the cold air.
I turn slowly to find Tanner, my ex, striding toward us down the sidewalk, backlit by the orange glow of the streetlamps. He’s wearing jeans, boots, that stupid leather jacket he thinks makes him look tough, and there’s a looseness to his walk that tells me he’s been drinking. His sandy hair is pushed off his face, jaw tight, and even from here, I notice the mean glint in his eye.
“Just fucking great,” I murmur under my breath.
We dated for two years with him tracking my location, checking my messages, showing up wherever I was like it was a coincidence. It wasn’t dramatic. It was slow. A steady erosion of my independence that I didn’t fully recognize until I was standing in my kitchen one night, asking permission to visit my own parents, and realized I didn’t know how I’d gotten there.
I broke up with him fourteen months ago, and he still hasn’t forgiven me for it.
“June.” He barks my name like a claim, like he has any right to call me that anymore. “Didn’t expect to see you out this late.”
“Tanner.” I keep my voice flat, bored. “Go home. Sleep it off.”
His eyes slide past me to Seth, who has gone quiet, watching the exchange with unfocused interest. “Who’s this?”
“None of your business.”
“Looked pretty cozy from down the street.” He takes another step closer. “Walking arm in arm. Cute.” He sneers.
“I’m helping a visitor find his motel. That’s all.”
Tanner’s lip curls. “Let me guess. Rodeo trash?”
“Hey.” Seth’s voice cuts through, sharper than I expected. “That’s not very nice.”
Tanner’s attention snaps to him, eyes narrowing. “I’m sorry, did I ask you?”
“No.” Seth smiles, but there’s an edge to it now. “But I’m telling you anyway. That’s not how you talk about people.”
“Seth.” I squeeze his arm, warning. “Don’t.”
But Tanner is already stepping closer, that mean look intensifying. “Big man, aren’t you? Coming into town, thinking you can act however you want. Getting handsy with women who don’t belong to you.”
“I don’t belong to anyone—” I start.
“Shut up, June.”
I flinch, hating myself for it, hating that he can still make me feel small with nothing but his tone.
Seth goes very still beside me.
“That’s definitely not how you talk to her,” he says quietly.
“I’ll talk to her however I want. She’s my girl.”
“I’m not your anything,” I snap, finding my voice again. “We broke up over a year ago, Tanner. Get over it.”
He laughs, ugly. “You think you can just walk away from me? After everything I did for you?”
I shake my head, incredulous. “You didn’t do anything except make my life miserable. Now get out of my way. I have somewhere to be.”
I try to pull Seth forward, around Tanner, but my ex moves to block us. His hand comes up, palm flat against Seth’s chest, both men similar in height. And there’s a moment—brief, charged—where everything goes very quiet.
“You’re touching my girl there, asshole.” Tanner’s voice is low and nasty, the kind that carries even at two in the morning when the whole street is dead quiet. “I don’t like it.”
Seth glances down at Tanner’s hand on his chest, then up at his face. Seth’s expression goes flat in a way that tightens my stomach. Not calm. Not relaxed. Empty. Like something just shut off.
