I look down at the tie, then up at my reflection. The knot is flawless, sitting precisely centered against my collar. And suddenly, without warning, the tears come.
They spill down my cheeks before I can stop them, hot and silent, blurring my vision until Jackson becomes a smear of color in front of me. I’m not sobbing exactly, but I can’t seem to make the tears stop either.
“Ryan, hey.” Jackson’s voice is alarmed. “What’s wrong? Did I do it too tight? Is it crooked? I can redo it.”
“It’s not the tie,” I manage, swiping at my face with the back of my hand.
“Come here,” he says, and then his arms are around me, pulling me into one of those bone-crushing Jackson Monroe hugs that I used to hate and now can’t imagine living without. “I’ve got you, buddy.”
I let myself be held. I let myself cry into the shoulder of a guy who was a stranger three years ago and is now closer to me than anyone except the boy who’s about to pick me up for our first date.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m being ridiculous.”
“You’re being human.” Jackson pulls back, keeping his hands on my shoulders.
Before I can respond, there’s a knock at the door.
My heart seizes. “That’s him. I can’t let him see me like this.”
“Too late.” Jackson releases me and crosses to the door, yanking it open before I can stop him.
Oliver stands in the hallway, and for a moment, all thoughts of tears and funerals and grandmothers evaporate from my mind. He’s wearing a tuxedo that appears to have been sewn directly onto his body, the black fabric emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist. His dark hair is styledback from his face, and his green eyes are bright with anticipation.
Those eyes find me immediately, and the anticipation transforms into alarm.
“Ryan?” Oliver is across the room in three strides, his hands cupping my face before I can blink. “What happened? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
His gaze swings to Jackson, and something dangerous flickers in those green depths. “What did you say to him?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Jackson holds up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything! Well, I said a lot of things, but nothing that would—this isn’t my fault!”
“Then why is he crying?” Oliver’s voice has dropped into a register I’ve never heard before—low and protective and slightly terrifying. “If you upset him, I swear to God?—”
“Oliver.” I reach up, covering his hands with mine, where they still cradle my face. “Oliver, stop. Jackson didn’t do anything wrong.”
Oliver’s attention snaps back to me, the protective fury softening into concern. “Then what happened?”
“He tied my tie.” The words sound foolish even as I say them. “The last person who tied my tie was my grandmother before my mom’s funeral. And she’s gone now too. And Jackson, he did it so carefully, and I?—”
I don’t need to finish. Oliver’s expression shifts from understanding to sympathy, then to something so tender it makes me want to cry all over again.
He pulls me into his arms, and I go willingly, pressing my face against his shoulder. He smells like expensive cologne, and his hand rubs slow circles on my back as I breathe through the last of the tears.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble into his jacket. “This is a terrible start to our first date. I’m a mess.”
“You’re not a mess. You’re processing grief in a healthy way.” Oliver’s lips brush my temple. “Also, you look incredible in thattux, so I’m having a hard time being upset about anything right now.”
Behind us, Jackson clears his throat. “So, uh, not to interrupt this very tender moment, but I just want to make something clear.”
Oliver and I separate slightly, turning to look at him. Jackson has his arms crossed over his chest, and there’s an expression on his face I’ve never seen before—serious in a way that doesn’t quite suit his golden retriever energy.
“Oliver,” Jackson says, and his voice carries an unusual weight. “Ryan is basically my brother at this point. He’s the best person I know, and he’s been through more than anyone should have to deal with. So I’m going to say this once, and I need you to hear me.”
Oliver straightens, his arm still around my waist. “I’m listening.”
“If you hurt him—” Jackson’s brown eyes are steady, unwavering. “If you break his heart, or make him cry for any reason that isn’t happy tears, or do anything to make him regret letting you in? You will have me to answer to. Got it?”
Oliver’s expression shifts from protective intensity to solemn. He meets Jackson’s gaze directly, unflinching. “I understand. And I want you to know that I would never do anything to hurt Ryan. Not intentionally, not carelessly, not ever.” His grip on me tightens slightly. “He’s the best thing that’s happened to me in longer than I can remember. I’m not going to mess that up.”
