The silence between us settles, not heavy—just present. Familiar in a way that shouldn’t feel good, but kind of does.
The jets hum low. Steam curls off the surface. Tiny beads of sweat gather at my temples, sliding into damp strands of hair.
“Are you excited about tomorrow?” he asks after a beat.
I keep my head tilted back, eyes half-closed. “More like nervous.”
“You’re ready,” he says simply. “You’re going to do amazing.”
I glance at him—his face soft in the low light, hair pushed back, arms draped over the edge of the tub. His eyes aren’t teasing now. They’re warm. Steady.
“Or I’ll faceplant taking the star and end up a viral meme,” I mutter. “Maybe Finn can capture that for the ages.”
His expression flickers. “Finn?”
I nod. “A fan. Kind of obsessed.”
He shifts slightly, one arm sliding down to rest on the edge of the seat. “Yeah. I think I met him.”
I tilt my head. “Yeah?”
“If your fan’s the one who threatens people’s lives for hurting you, then yep. I’m pretty sure I’ve met him.”
My eyebrows shoot up. I sit forward a little, steam curling around me. “He threatened you?”
Landon gives a dry laugh, scrubbing a hand down his jaw. “You could say that.”
I move a little closer, curiosity overriding the distance we’d been keeping. “What did he do?”
“He cornered me by my truck after practice last week,” Landon says. “Didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t touch me. Just… got real close and said if I ever hurt you again, he’d make sure I disappeared.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “That sounds like him.”
Landon studies me, his brow furrowed. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I’m not.”
“You okay with that?” he asks carefully. “Because that wasn’t just protective. That was…calculated. And a little crazy.”
I run my fingers through the water, watching the ripples stretch toward him. “Finn doesn’t draw lines the way most people do. And I don’t think he knows how to love without it bleeding into obsession.”
“You think that’s love?” he asks.
“I think it’s his version of it,” I say quietly. “And yeah, that probably makes me messed up too—but I don’t feel unsafe.”
Landon leans back, arms resting on the edge of the tub, gaze fixed on the water. “He scares me a little.”
“Good,” I say without thinking. Then softer, “He’s supposed to.”
That earns the smallest smile from him. Not mocking—just tired. Understanding.
“You’ve got a whole world of complicated around you now,” he says, voice gentler.
“Yeah.” I meet his eyes. “But I’m not drowning in it anymore.”
We sit in silence for a beat. The bubbles hum. Laughter floats over from the pool. My skin tingles from the heat, from the closeness, from too many memories brushing up against the now.
“Thanks for not running,” I murmur.
