Away from the center. Not far. Just enough.
A pickup truck sat parked near the edge of the field, its tailgate already dropped. A cooler rested on the ground beside it. A thick blanket lay on the rough metal bed.
Law stopped there, close enough that he could still feel the heat of him at his side.
The warmth pressed in from that side, constant and hard to ignore.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Sage was suddenly acutely aware of everything.
The night air cooling the sweat at the back of his neck.
Mostly, Law.
The awareness sat sharp and immediate.
Fireworks boomed across the sky.
The steady, grounding weight of Law’s hand still wrapped around his.
Law released him only long enough to flip open the cooler.
Ice shifted. Glass clinked.
He pulled out a beer bottle, twisted the cap off, and held it out.
Sage took it automatically, his fingers brushing Law’s in the exchange—another small spark that hit harder than it should have.
The contact lingered, brief but enough to spike through him again.
“Thanks,” he said, voice a touch rougher than usual.
Law didn’t comment on it.
Of course, he didn’t.
He grabbed one for himself, shut the cooler with a quiet thud, then stepped in close again—closer than necessary—and leaned back against the tailgate.
Sage hesitated for half a second—
—then pushed himself up to sit on the tailgate.
Their shoulders brushed.
Stayed there, and neither of them shifted away.
The contact settled into something steady, no longer accidental.
The metal of the truck bed was still warm from the day, grounding against the backs of his legs, but it was nothing compared to the heat standing at his side.
Law twisted the cap off his own beer and took a slow drink, eyes forward, posture easy.
Like nothing had just shifted between them.
Like they hadn’t just—
Sage exhaled slowly and tipped his own bottle back, letting the cold bite of it settle him.
