"YO, ACE!Where'd you go? We need a tiebreaker on the John McClane debate!"
Ace jumps back so fast he nearly trips over his own feet, putting an absurd amount of distance between us like we were doing something way more incriminating than kissing.
Which, okay, fair. We kind of were.
"Be right there!" Ace calls back, his voice impressively steady considering his pupils are blown and his jeans are tented.
Becker's footsteps retreat and we're left standing there in the dim hallway, breathing hard, staring at each other.
Ace's face falls, guilt creeping into his expression, and I know exactly what he's thinking before he opens his mouth. I take a step closer but keep a respectful distance this time. "Hey. It's okay."
"Devon—"
"I get it. I assumed you wouldn't want to come out. That's totally fine. I'll be more careful. We can keep this—" I gesture between us, "—on the down-low. No problem."
"That's not—" He runs a hand through his hair. "I mean, yes. I'm not ready to come out to the world. That's... that's a whole thing I haven't even processed yet. But the team?" He looks at me, and his eyes are so earnest it makes my chest ache. "They're family. Iwantto tell them. I will. I just... I'd prefer it happen some other way than getting walked in on."
I can't help it—I laugh. "That's fair. They'd never let you hear the end of it."
"Exactly." He's smiling now, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "I'll tell them when it feels right. But Iwilltell them."
"Yeah. Okay." I gesture toward the main room. "But now let's get out there before Becker sends a search party. And for the record?" I grin. "You look really hot when you're flustered."
His ears go pink and I count it as a victory.
We head back separately—me first, then Ace a minute later—and rejoin the chaos like nothing happened.
When I catch his eye across the bar a few minutes later, he's smiling, and I'm smiling, and everything feels exactly right.
CHAPTER 24
ACE
CANDY STOPS TO sniff a fire hydrant, and Devon and I both automatically halt, like we're synchronized dancers who didn't rehearse but somehow know all the same moves.
"She's the boss," Devon says, smiling.
"Absolutely. What Candy wants, Candy gets."
We've been walking for twenty minutes, taking the long route around the neighborhood even though it's cold enough that I can see my breath. Neither of us has suggested going back yet. Neither of us wants to.
This has become a thing—walking Candy together. We don't plan it, exactly. It just happens. I show up at the shelter and Devon's there. Or Devon shows up and I'm there. And then somehow we're both holding Candy's leash and walking through Chicago.
"So," Devon says, bumping his shoulder against mine as we start moving again. "Scale of one to ten, how sore are you?"
I feel my face heat up. "I'm not answering that."
"That's a ten. Definitely a ten."
"I didn't say—"
"You didn't have to. Your ears are red." He's grinning, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "For the record, I'm also a ten. Possibly an eleven. I don't think I'll ever walk normally again."
"Devon."
"What? I'm just saying, you're very thorough. It's a compliment."
I shake my head, but I'm smiling.
