“It did unsettle me,” he said honestly. “At first.”
My chest tightened.
“Not because you messed up,” he continued. “But because it reminded me of before. Of stepping in because someone else was overwhelmed. Of being expected to carry things quietly.”
I nodded, heart heavy. “I never wanted to put you back there.”
“I know,” he said.
He leaned forward again, forearms resting on the table, close enough now that I could feel the warmth of him.
Jaime continued, “And here’s the difference. You didn’t disappear. You didn’t pretend it didn’t happen. You stayed engaged. You noticed things I didn’t.”
I blinked. “I did?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “That second obstacle. You’re attentive in a way that’s different from me. Complementary.”
Something eased in my chest, slow and warm, like a knot finally loosening.
“Partners lean on each other,” Jaime went on. “That’s not a failure. It’s balance.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Then you can lean on me too. If I screw up. Or if something’s bothering you. I want you to tell me,” I said.
His gaze softened, the intensity shifting into something quieter. Something real.
“Alright,” he said.
For a moment, neither of us moved. The hum of the diner filled the space between us, silverware clinking, voices low and distant.
I don’t know which of us leaned in first. I just knew that suddenly his hand was warm against my wrist, grounding, and I was close enough to see the faint crease between his brows smooth out.
The kiss was brief, gentle, almost tentative, but it carried more weight than anything reckless ever could have. A promise rather than a demand.
When we pulled back, Jaime’s forehead rested lightly against mine for half a second.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re learning faster than you think.”
“Guess I had a good teacher,” I said lightly, my voice a little rougher than I’d intended.
He snorted, shaking his head. “Careful.”
We finished our meal in a quieter, easier mood after that. Outside, the night had deepened, the town calmer than it had been hours earlier.
As we walked back toward the hotel, our shoulders brushed. This time, neither of us moved away.
The mystery wasn’t solved. If anything, it had deepened. Someone was still out there, patient and deliberate. But Jaime and I had this. I was sure of it.
9
JAIME
Iwoke to the sound of phones vibrating against the nightstand.
For a second, I didn’t remember where I was. The room was dim, curtains drawn tight against the early morning light.
Then I became aware of something warm and solid pressed along my side. Chris.
His arm was heavy across my waist, his leg tangled with mine like it had always belonged there. His breathing was slow and even, warm against the back of my neck.
