Chapter 26
26
wildeblade4ever
The Harborside Diner smelled like victory.
Or maybe that was just the blueberry pancakes.
Actually, it was probably more like victory, pancakes, slightly burned coffee, and that weird mix of maple syrup and industrial cleaner that all diners seemed to have.
But I was choosing to focus on the victory part because we’d earned it.
Sitting in our cozy booth with morning sunlight streaming through the windows, I couldn’t stop smiling. Jax’s thigh pressed against mine as we shared one side of the booth while Chris sat across from us, demolishing his third stack of pancakes like he hadn’t eaten in days.
To be fair, we’d all worked up quite an appetite while taking down a serial killer.
Who knew epic showdowns could make you so hungry?
“Know what’s funny?” I asked, stealing a bite of Jax’s pancakes just because I could.
And maybe also because the way his eyes narrowed when I did it was adorable. For someone with superhuman reflexes, he was surprisingly bad at defending his breakfast.
Jax raised an eyebrow. “Not that.”
I rolled my eyes. “What’s funny is that we were supposed to come here that day. Remember, Chris?”
He nodded, mouth too full to answer out loud.
“What day?” Jax asked.
“The bank robbery. You know, when I first saw The Blade in action and fell madly in love?” I batted my eyelashes at him with exaggerated swooning motions. “We were going to get pancakes after, but then we had to give police statements instead.”
Chris swallowed his mouthful of breakfast, syrup threatening to drip onto his shirt. “I’ll never forget the day Luna couldn’t shut up about how obsessed she was with the mysterious vigilante when we all thought we were going to die. Not weird at all.”
“You weren’t going to die. I was right there.”
Chris shrugged, stabbing another bite. “I didn’t know you back then. It was still anyone’s guess how it’d turn out.”
Jax dropped his chin, then slowly looked at me, mock offense all over his face.
“Don’t worry, I trusted you,” I said, playing into it.
“Yeah, she did. Like I said, obsessed. For weeks after, it was all ‘Did you see how fast he moved?’ and ‘Those throwing knives though!’ and ‘Do you think he likes coffee?’”
I threw a blueberry at him, which he caught and popped into his mouth with infuriating accuracy. “Like you weren’t impressed, too. I distinctly remember someone saying they’d never seen anything like it.”
“Sure, but I didn’t write Mrs. Luna Blade in my diary.”
“I don’t have a diary!” The protest came out louder than intended, drawing amused looks from nearby diners.
Jax made a strangled sound that might have been a laugh.
I elbowed him. “Don’t encourage him. This is a betrayal of the highest order.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” But his eyes danced with amusement as he pressed a kiss to my temple, and I could feel his smile against my skin. “Though I have to admit, the image of you wanting to marry the vigilante version of me totally tracks. Bet you never wrote Mrs. Luna Thorne in your diary.”
“Bet you she did,” Chris mumbled under his breath, earning himself another blueberry bullet—this one straight to his forehead.
On the TV mounted above the counter, the morning news was still covering The Blade’s takedown of the Valentine Villain.
Amateur and security footage showed glimpses of a black-clad figure moving faster than the cameras could track, and newscasters gushed about how the vigilante had saved the city once again.
One particularly enthusiastic reporter swore there were witnesses who’d seen him leap between buildings like Spiderman without the webs, but that was total trash. There were no witnesses unless you counted me. And my description of him would paint a much more attractive picture. Me being obsessed, and all.
“The city’s favorite hero strikes again,” an anchor announced with a bright smile that probably took years of practice to perfect. “Sources say The Blade single-handedly captured the notorious Valentine Villain, bringing an end to the string of tragic murders that have plagued our city.”
“Single-handedly?” Chris muttered, stabbing his pancakes with more force than necessary. “What are we, chopped liver? I’d like to see him crack encrypted phones and run tactical support while also maintaining a professional gaming schedule and my usual hacktivism. It’s not easy.”
I patted his hand consolingly. “There, there. We know the truth. Team Blade forever.”
“And the truth shall remain secret,” Jax added firmly, though I caught the way his lips twitched.
Around us, other diners were discussing the news, too, their excited chatter filling the cozy space with theories and speculation.
A kid at the counter wore a black hoodie that was clearly meant to be a homemade Blade costume, complete with plastic swords crossed on his back and secured with black tape. He kept striking dramatic poses while his parents pretended not to notice.
Jax shifted uncomfortably, pulling his own hood lower. “Maybe we should?—”
“Nope.” I hooked my arm through his, effectively trapping him in the booth. “We’re celebrating. With pancakes. Deal with it.”
He sighed and didn’t reply, but I felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.
Chris snorted into his coffee. “You’ve got him well-trained. Next thing you know, he’ll be helping you decorate for holidays without complaining about the glitter hazard.”
“Never,” Jax deadpanned, but his arm tightened around me slightly.
I pulled out my phone. “Oh, speaking of the holidays. I almost forgot. Have you seen this?”
I held up my screen, making sure the phone was at the perfect angle to show off the fully-funded Kickstarter campaign for The Blade action figures.
Someone—definitely not me and Chris, obviously—had created surprisingly detailed mock-ups, complete with choking-hazard-sized throwing knives and that signature hood. They’d even gotten his broody stance right, which should have required hours of careful observation.
They were set to ship right before Christmas.
Not that I’d know anything about that.
Jax’s eyes went wide, and his pancake-laden fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “What.”
It wasn’t even a question—more like an exhale of pure horror. The kind that made my heart do happy little flips because he was just so adorable when he was mortified.
“It reached the funding goal in, like, two hours,” I continued cheerfully, scrolling through the updates with perhaps too much enthusiasm. “Turns out people really want tiny plastic versions of Slate Harbor’s very own vigilante. Look, they even got your broody stance right! See how the little figure can be posed to have its arms crossed and everything?”
He dropped his fork so he could bury his face in his hands. “This isn’t happening.”
“Oh, it’s definitely happening.” Chris leaned across the table to get a better look, nearly knocking over his coffee in his excitement. “And honestly? It really is a good stance. Very heroic. They really captured your whole...” He gestured vaguely at all of Jax. “Aesthetic.”
“I hate both of you.” His words were muffled by his hands, but the fondness in them was unmistakable.
I scrolled through the campaign details, probably having way too much fun with this. “They’re planning a whole line. Different outfits, weapons... ooh, and a deluxe version with light-up eyes! For those extra dramatic nighttime rescues.”
“And look at these accessories,” Chris added, pointing at the screen. “Interchangeable weapons, including tiny throwing knives.”
“Plus a grappling hook!”
“And a motorcycle!”
“I don’t even have a motorcycle,” he grumbled.
“Don’t forget the display stand shaped like?—“
“You started this, didn’t you?” he cut in, finally emerging from behind his hands to look between us with narrowed eyes. “This has your chaos energy all over it.”
Chris and I shared a look that we’d practiced repeatedly for exactly this moment. It gave absolutely nothing away.
“I would never,” I said solemnly, placing a hand over my heart. “That would be a violation of your privacy and totally inappropriate use of my insider knowledge of your brooding habits.”
“Me either,” Chris added, the picture of innocence. “Though I have to admit, whoever did has excellent marketing skills. And coding abilities. And possibly access to really good 3D modeling software.”
Jax’s eyes narrowed further as he peered down at the screen. “The Kickstarter creator’s name is ‘WildeBlade4Ever.’”
“Common username format,” I said quickly. “Very standard.”
“With a coffee cup logo?”
“Lots of people like coffee.”
“That looks exactly like the ones on your shop’s sign?”
“Pure coincidence.”
He groaned, slumping back in the booth. “I’m going to wake up one day and find myself on lunch boxes, aren’t I? Maybe backpacks? One of those thermoses with my face on it?”
“Only if you’re lucky.” I patted his chest consolingly. “But hey, I bet the swords and the throwing knives would make a nice repeating pattern on a blanket.”
“Or pajamas,” Chris suggested.
Jax growled.
Chris’s phone buzzed with impeccable timing, and he checked it with a quick frown. “Guess I’m done with pancakes. I gotta take care of some stuff for my other outside-the-law job.”
“Have fun,” I said with a wave, not at all mad about alone time with the man next to me.
Chris stood, tossing some bills on the table and grabbing his jacket. “Oh, and Jax? Don’t worry too much about the action figures. I hear the production schedule is very reasonable.”
And with that parting shot, he was gone, and I turned to find Jax watching me with an expression that made my heart do funny things in my chest. It wasn’t his usual serious vigilante look or even his softer coffee shop regular one.
This was something else—something that made me feel like I was the only person in the crowded diner worth seeing.
“What?” I asked, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened under his gaze.
“Nothing.” He smiled—one of those rare, full smiles that transformed his whole face and made me want to start another Kickstarter just to immortalize it. “Just thinking about how strange life is sometimes.”
“Strange good or strange bad?”
“Definitely good.” His arm tightened around my shoulders. “Don’t tell anyone.”
I snuggled closer, breathing in the familiar scent of his hoodie. “Because you have to maintain your broody reputation if you’re gonna be turned into an action figure?”
“Because somehow, even being turned into an action figure seems worth it.” His voice dropped lower, just for me, with that rough edge that never failed to make my toes curl. “If it means getting to love you.”
My heart did a full gymnastics routine, complete with a triple backflip and possibly some unauthorized pyrotechnics. “Careful there, superhero. That was very over-the-top cute.”
“I am not cute.”
And the way he stared down at me from under his hood with his thumb tracing slow circles on my shoulder, leaving goosebumps in its wake?
I had to agree.
There were a lot of adjectives that would more accurately describe Jax Thorne at the moment, and cute wasn’t one of them.
I tilted my head to look at him properly, taking in the way the morning light softened his usually sharp features. “You know I’d love you anyway, right? Even without the whole vigilante thing?”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” I played with the strings of his hoodie, wrapping them around my fingers. “I mean, I had a crush on The Blade, sure. Who wouldn’t? But you were the one I actually tried to start something with. The mysterious regular who pretended not to like my cookies.”
“Not me.”
“You literally said you were allergic to unsolicited baked goods.”
He laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest where I was pressed against him. “And yet, you kept bringing them anyway.”
“Because I’m stubborn.”
“Because you knew me, even when you didn’t,” he said, and the simple sincerity in his voice made my chest tight. “You know what I thought that day at the bank? When you said you were obsessed?”
“What?”
“I wanted to tell you right then. Who I was. Walk right up, maybe carry you out of there in a blur before even Chris noticed you were gone.”
I slapped his chest. “Stop it. Chris said something like that to me while we were sitting there! Something about looking like I wanted you to do that.”
“Well, you kinda did.” I started to shove him, but then his hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing my cheek and then the underside of my mouth. “I love you.”
The kiss was soft and sweet—the kind that felt like coming home. Around us, the diner buzzed with life. The news still played on the TV, celebrating The Blade’s victory. That hooded kid at the counter was showing his parents something on a phone that looked suspiciously like a Kickstarter page.
But right here, in this moment?
It was just us—Jax and Luna.
The vigilante and the coffee shop owner.
And really? That was all I needed.
Well, that and maybe a prototype of that action figure.
But I’d work on that later.