Peacocks (Licking Thicket #5)

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Jay

Through the month of March, I took every opportunity to touch and kiss and suck Lane Desmond. To care for him and pretend he was mine.

I wasn’t fooling myself into thinking he actually was mine. Not really. There were about a billion reasons why he wasn’t and could never be—as many reasons as there were degrees on his walls and vocabulary words he knew that I didn’t, and those things mattered , even if Dunn and Tucker said otherwise—but I sure enjoyed pretending.

I rolled out of my bed quietly, one hand on the bed frame to keep it from creaking under my weight. Spring was arriving in the Thicket slowly but surely, which made getting out of bed in the morning a little bit easier… not that you’d know it to look at Lane.

The second I left the bed, he rolled into my warm spot and immediately pulled the covers around him, half his face buried in my pillow and the other half catching the pale morning light. The poor man’s hair stuck up in every direction, like he’d been fighting a hard battle… and I supposed he had since it was the start of calving season, and Alva had called him for an assist at Dunn Johnson’s place last night.

I leaned against my doorjamb for a second and watched him sleep like the creepiest creeper to ever creep. The man needed his rest, and I didn’t want to wake him… but dang , I really liked looking at Lane.

Even a couple of months ago, he’d carried himself like he was holding something back. For a man who always knew what to do when it came to animals, Lane had been nervous as a jackrabbit around the people of the Thicket. More and more these days, though—in these quiet moments when he was tangled up in my blankets, or when we sat on my couch drinking a beer, or even sometimes when he was out and about in town, chatting with Cindy Ann Johnson and some of the other ladies about Thicket happenings—he looked calmer.

More peaceful.

Happier, maybe.

God, I really, really hoped he was happy in the Thicket… and with me.

I shook my head at myself. “Don’t get used to it, Jay,” I muttered under my breath. “It’s not forever.”

Lane had made it clear that he wanted casual — light and easy, with no strings—and I was fine with that.

I was .

Completely fine.

Except… fuck , I really wasn’t.

The truth was, I had this stupid hope buried deep in my chest that one day Lane might be okay with getting un-casual. One might even say… serious. In short, I’d like to Entwine the hell out of the man.

I wanted more mornings like this, where Lane was sweet and sleepy in my bed, and more nights where the two of us laughed and teased and solved the world’s problems over Italian Gentleman. I wanted, really badly, for him to stop seeing me as a guy he was killing time with. But I wasn’t sure what to do about it other than what I had been doing—floating along, falling in love, and pretending I wasn’t.

I knew a whole fuckton about how to give other people what they wanted and needed, whether it was Mrs. Holcombe needing her groceries carried when her twins started throwing surround-sound temper tantrums in the middle of the grocery store or my grandma Emmaline needing a “wearable” Entwinin’ plaque for her husband Amos to commemorate him winning Best Mature Bovine Herder at the Lickin’ last summer.

But wanting Lane for myself was a whole other thing. It felt selfish and scary. It tied me up in knots… and not the pretty Entwinin’ kind.

The truth was, I’d just never found anything worth wanting before. Not the way I wanted him.

“Jay?” Lane opened one eye and blinked at me blearily. “Y’okay?”

My stomach tightened. I wanted to say, “Yeah, Lane. As long as you’re here with me, I’m very okay.” But that wouldn’t be casual, would it? I didn’t want to put pressure on the man. I definitely didn’t want to see him do his jackrabbit impression again.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just got distracted thinking of my to-do list today. The Entwinin’ is tomorrow, and I’ve got like five wreaths I need to finish up. But first, breakfast for Dave and the gang… and then for my favorite veterinarian.”

Lane’s eye slid closed, but his face creased in a sleepy grin. “Always helping. S’cute.”

I snorted as I threw on a sweatshirt and let myself out to the backyard, where my flock of cocks strolled around their enclosure. Just as Lane had predicted, Disco Dave had laid off the peacock Viagra once he’d settled into his new enclosure, complete with roosts and lots of soft pine shavings. He still shook out his feathers, of course, but not in the aggressive, train-rattling way he’d done at first.

“Dave’s figured out that his mating season will come eventually, and he’s gotta be patient,” Lane had said when he’d looked over the flock a few weeks back. “Speaking of which, I have this friend back in Georgia who happens to have some peahens…”

My smile had taken up my whole face. The words Lane spoke could’ve come out of my own mouth. I couldn’t resist teasing him. “Seems like a lot of your stories start that way these days, Doc.”

Lane had blushed a mouthwatering pink from his head to his collarbone. “Yes. Well. Possibly. In any case, about the peahens…”

Lane liked to joke about my obsession with taking care of people and putting other people’s wants before my own, but Lane worried about the animals in his care like they were his own family. He didn’t just do his job; he lived it, pouring his heart into every furry or feathered creature that crossed his path. He was thoughtful and honest, always saying exactly what he meant, even when it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. He made people— me —feel like we mattered. And he was so damn appreciative of even the littlest kindness.

It was no wonder I’d fallen for him hard and just kept falling.

Once again, I was not an idiot.

I wished the peacocks a good day, then went back inside and washed up. Preparing breakfast for Lane was second nature by now since I got the privilege of doing it three or four days a week. I whipped up some scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Without thinking about it, I grabbed the honey jar out of the pantry and set it on my kitchen island.

The first few times I’d stayed at Lane’s place, I’d noticed him drizzling honey on his toast, so I’d bought some at the farmer’s market. Now, whenever he reached for it automatically, like he was used to it always being there, it gave me a little thrill.

I shook my head at myself. One of these days, the man was going to figure out that I never ate the stuff myself. He was going to recognize that this honey was a gesture of… of… un-casualness… and I was going to feel like a fool.

Still, I couldn’t see to stop myself.

A few minutes later, Lane’s footsteps shuffled across the floor.

“You know you’re ridiculous, right?” Lane’s voice was warm and scratchy, still thick with sleep.

I glanced over my shoulder, nearly dropping my bacon spatula. Lane’s hair was wilder than I’d ever seen it, and he had a deep crease down his cheek. He’d grabbed a long-sleeved Bovines Alumni T-shirt from my drawer, and seeing it on him was making me, uh… display … in a way that Dave would be mightily jealous of.

“Am I?” I said, forcing myself to look closely at the eggs so Lane wouldn’t see whatever foolish look was on my face.

“Mmm.” He flopped onto one of the kitchen stools. “Barely dawn and you’re playing short-order cook. And I happen to know you were in your workshop past midnight.”

He knew because that was where he’d found me when he’d come home, himself.

I chuckled. “Gotta make sure folks have a happy Entwinin’. Liz Stoke has been waiting a whole year to propose to Crystal Rivera ’cause she wanted to do it with a wreath. An Entwinin’ wreath is the purest form of love there is.”

“Sure,” he agreed, but when I turned toward him to plate the eggs, I noticed a little frown on Lane’s forehead.

“You okay?” I asked, setting his plate in front of him.

Lane reached for the honey and paused for a second before he started drizzling honey on his bread. When he looked up at me, his eyes were soft. “Yeah. I’m great. Thank you for breakfast.”

“No big deal.” I turned back to the counter and gave it a wipe, even though it didn’t need it.

The sound of Lane’s crunching toast filled the quiet, and I glanced over to watch him chew with his eyes half-closed like it was the best thing he’d eaten in days.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself.

“So, um…” Lane finished eating and set his fork down a little nervously. “I’ve got a short day at the clinic today. Want to meet me for lunch? Say… noon?”

I blinked, caught off guard. We’d never done lunch before. Breakfast, sure. Dinners too, mostly at home. Lunch felt… different. It was the time of day when all the Thicket gossips would be out and about. Not that I expected Lane to, like, lay one on me in the middle of the Thicket Tavern or anything.

Though I sure wouldn’t mind if he did.

Could this be a step toward un-casual? Or is it just lunch?

Suddenly, I felt nervous too, and my mind flew downstairs to the best, most important Entwinin’ wreath I’d ever made—one I’d started designing back in February ’cause it needed to be special, a wreath to end all wreaths—and would probably never have the guts to give the man I wanted to be Entwined with.

“Yeah,” I managed to choke out. “Yeah, I could do lunch. I’ll meet you at the clinic.”

By the time I walked into the clinic at 11:59, I’d ridden a roller coaster up and down ten times, alternately hoping this lunch was a sign of un-casual-ness and convinced this was a prelude to a breakup… or whatever you called it when you weren’t actually together.

When I opened the door, the bell above it jingled. Lane had been in the middle of talking—“Pete, can you update Jinx’s file to say—” but he came to a halt as he caught sight of me and smiled sweetly.

The roller coaster went up again, sending a warmth through my chest I didn’t know what to do with.

“Howdy, neighbor,” I managed.

It looked like Lane was trying to restrain his grin, maybe to be professional or something, but he couldn’t quite do it. “Hey.”

“Dear God,” Petey groaned. “This is like the anal glands all over again. You’re late, Jay,” he informed me. “It’s nearly noon. Snack time’s come and gone.”

I blinked at him. “Everything okay, Petey?”

He sighed. “Actually? No. No, it’s not. I’ve been on thirty-two dates in the past two months, and none of them have gone anywhere for… well, reasons… and now I’m out of options.” His cheeks blushed. “And meanwhile, I’ve had to watch a couple of guys who are a hundred percent head over heels for each other wring their hands and dance around each other, utterly oblivious.”

“Ooof.” I shook my head. “That’s rough. Some people, huh?”

Petey inhaled a sharp breath through his nose. “Yeah, Jay. Some people.” He shook his head. “And it’s Pete now. Or Peter. Petey makes me sound like a freckled nine-year-old.”

I looked Petey—er, Pete —over, taking in his short stature, messy hair, and the line of tiny brown spots over the bridge of his nose. I opened my mouth to say something… but when I saw the look in his eyes, I realized immediately that it would be better unsaid.

“Right,” I said instead. “ Pete . Got it.”

Pete lifted one eyebrow in Lane’s direction. “So what’s the occasion for lunch today? Pre-gaming the Entwinin’? Gonna talk about, you know… wreaths? Love declarations? Stuff like that?”

Lane’s face went red, and he stared at the wall. “N-no?—”

“Jay…” Pete cocked his head at me. “You have lots of experience in the Entwinin’ game. You’re practically the Thicket’s Entwinin’ expert. Anything you’re particularly looking forward to tomorrow?”

“I, uh… Well, I…” I glanced at my feet.

Before I could come up with an answer, the bell over the door jangled again. I was too busy trying to get my hot cheeks to cool off to see who’d arrived, but when Pete did, he inhaled sharply.

“Oh my God. My dry spell may be over,” he whispered under his breath. Then he summoned a blinding smile and said more loudly, “Good afternoon! May I help you?”

“Lane!” the newcomer said, his voice smooth, confident… and entirely too loud for the clinic’s front room.

Lane turned his head as if he’d heard a ghost. “Chad?”

I stepped aside as the newcomer strode toward the desk. He was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a suit sharp enough to cut glass. His hair was perfect, his watch glittered under the fluorescent lights, and his smile was polished and practiced. Smarmy , I thought immediately… which was an unkind thought, yes, but that didn’t make it untrue.

It became even more true when the man pulled Lane into a quick embrace, complete with a kiss on his cheek like something out of a movie.

Pete’s jaw dropped. “Who is this ?” he whispered to me, but I hadn’t the first clue.

Lane extracted himself from the hug. “Pete. Jay. This is… this is Chad. My ex-boyfriend.”

This? This was Lane’s ex? I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that, but the thought occurred to me that if I found the man’s car in a ditch, I wouldn’t offer him a tow.

Not for free, anyway.

Pete immediately stepped out from behind the desk, inserting himself between Chad and Lane. “Hey. Peter Winchell: vet tech, supply wizard, currently single . Lovely to meet you, Chad.”

Chad’s eyes flicked over Pete with polite interest. “Likewise, I’m sure.”

“Chad…” Behind Pete, Lane shook his head. “What are you doing here?” I liked to think he didn’t sound overjoyed to see the man.

“I was in the area meeting with an old colleague, and I thought I’d stop by and take you to lunch. We have a lot of catching up to do. I heard you’d ended up practicing in a small town but hadn’t quite believed it.” His gaze swept around the front room and then out onto the street, where a couple of people were canoodling under a wisteria bower. “It’s… something, isn’t it?”

Though his smile didn’t slip even a fraction, I could tell he didn’t think that “something” was anything good.

Lane gave me a helpless look I couldn’t interpret, and then his jaw firmed. “Actually, Chad, I already have lunch plans…”

Suddenly, I thought I understood Lane’s look. He wanted me to bow out gracefully so I wouldn’t make him uncomfortable. “Oh! No, Lane. Don’t, uh, don’t worry about me.” I put both hands up. “You two can go ahead. I’ll catch up with you later. At home.”

“Home?” Chad asked curiously, his eyes ping-ponging from Lane to me and back again.

Lane blushed. “Yes. I mean…” His face turned a red so deep it looked painful. “Jay and I… Jay is my…”

He gave me another helpless look, but this time, I caught on faster. “Landlord,” I supplied. “Yep. I’m Jaybird Proud, and I lord Lane’s land. As his landlord.”

Pete, Chad, and Lane gave me identical slack-jawed looks. Lane was the first to recover. “Jay is my friend,” he said firmly, “and the best man I know. He and I have lunch plans at the Steak n’ Bait.”

I had to suck in a breath, partly because the way Lane defended me made my chest squeeze and partly because the Steak n’ Bait… well, I wasn’t sure anyone had ever explained it to Lane, but that restaurant had a particular reputation. It was the Thicket’s number one spot for romance, at least according to the Yelp reviews, and so many proposals had taken place there they kept a running tally on the big sign out front, even though Chuck Gimbal had to climb a ladder once a week to update it.

Unfortunately, Lane ruined the effect of all this after a long moment of awkward silence by telling Chad with grudging politeness, “But you can come with us, if you’d like… I guess?”

Chad smiled like Lane had sent him an engraved invitation. “Perfect!” He gave me a look that made me wish I’d changed my boots for something that didn’t probably have peacock poop stuck to the bottom and that I’d worn a shirt with sleeves. “We can take my Lexus.”

Unfortunately, things only went downhill from there.

Riding in the back seat of Chad’s Lexus was a special kind of hell—one where I worried what kind of stains my boots were leaving on his pristine cream interior while Chad updated Lane on the lives of every single friend they’d ever had in common—and it didn’t improve once we got to the Steak n’ Bait (currently boasting 2,726 YESSES AND COUNTING).

“Doc Lane!” Barbara McNamara gushed the second we opened the door. “How are you? You know, everyone wants our dinner special, but hardly anyone takes advantage of our lunch offerings, and we were all just so tickled when you called to make a reservation for you and… and…” Her eyes took in Chad’s tall form standing between us, and she pressed her lips together. “Oh.” She blinked. “There may have been a mix-up.”

“Story of my life,” Lane muttered. More loudly, he said, “There’ll be three of us for lunch now.”

I’d say he blushed, except he hadn’t stopped blushing since the moment Chad arrived… which sorta told me everything I needed to know about how Lane felt about Chad, didn’t it? Still, Lane had invited me. Lane had insisted. So… for Lane, I’d stick around.

The place was fairly quiet at lunchtime—ladies in nice dresses chatted over cocktails while folks in business suits brokered billion-dollar deals… or whatever corporate types did at lunch. Barbara guided us past them to a two-person table way in the back that had been set with flowers. She paused awkwardly.

“Uh. Maybe… maybe this one instead.” Barbara spun toward a four-person table and placed our menus down. “I’ll just… um…” She twisted her hands. “I’ll go see where your server is.”

Chad took a seat, and Jay and I followed.

“This place is cute,” Chad decided. “Lane, you remember the time you and me and Mark Levy went out for dinner to that nouveau cuisine restaurant with the fake fireplace?”

“I remember getting food poisoning,” Lane said tightly. “And riding home in the Uber alone.”

“Oh.” Chad frowned. “God, I forgot that part.”

For the first time in my life, I had the urge to commit murder… or, at the very least, to hit a man directly in the face.

How the hell had Lane been with someone so mean ? I thought maybe I understood now why he reacted to the smallest kindness like a plant in the desert after a nice cool rain.

It was like a gift from the heavens when Kelsey came bustling over with a huge tray, interrupting Chad’s reminiscing.

“Happy Entwinin’, you two!” Kelsey smiled broadly as she set down a plate in the center of the table… and only then seemed to do a quick head count. “Um. Three ?” She frowned like she was recounting.

I frowned, too, when I saw what she’d placed on the table. “These are tots, Kels.”

“Well, yeah. I know.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “On account of… Barbara said she offered Lane the pre-Entwinin’ lunch special when he called to make the reservation.”

Ah, shit. I immediately realized what must’ve happened. Lane had been trying to do a nice thing, inviting me to lunch, and he’d accepted Barbara’s offer in all innocence. But the man didn’t understand why tater tots were significant in the Thicket in the same way that he didn’t understand that the Steak n’ Bait wasn’t just a normal lunch spot.

Around here, sharing a plate of tots wasn’t just about enjoying a crunchy shredded potato; it was a declaration. The equivalent of a promise ring. One step up from being in a relationship, one half step down from happily-ever-after-let’s-adopt-some-pets.

A man didn’t casually partake of tots with a hookup.

He sure as hell didn’t partake of them with an ex.

Tots were the opposite of casual.

For a second, I debated whether I could simply let it go. Lane didn’t realize what he’d be doing if he ate tots with both of us, and neither did Chad. But I’d been born and raised in this town. I was Thicket to the bone, and I’d be damned if I let Lane— my Lane—eat tots with another man while I sat by.

“Take them away,” I told Kelsey. To Lane, I added, “Been overdoing it on the fried foods. I’d sooner stick to salad, to start.”

Lane’s blush intensified for some reason, but he nodded unhappily. “Right. Salad appetizers for everyone,” he told Kelsey. “Good idea.”

“So, Jay,” Chad said sometime later after Kelsey had left with the offending tots. “Tell me about yourself. You’re Lane’s landlord?”

“Yep.” I set my elbows on the table, then vaguely remembered that was supposed to be bad manners and scooted them off again. “He lives over my workroom.” Lane looked like he might be feeling uncomfortable, so I added, “Best tenant I ever had. I hope he’ll stay forever.”

Lane glanced at me, and one side of his mouth ticked up in a smile.

“Uh-huh. And where do you work?” Chad made it sound like an idle question, but I knew it wasn’t.

“I do lots of things. For example, I recently started a small peacock-rental enterprise. Thinking of calling it Jay Proud’s Peacocks, but I’m still workshopping it. Primarily, though, you’ll find me at the Suds Barn, the Thicket’s best and only car wash.”

“You… wash cars,” Chad said like this wasn’t obvious. “For a living.”

“Sure do.” I grinned. “Most satisfying job in the world, getting to fix things up and make ’em shine.”

“Jay’s excellent at what he does. He’s also an artist.” Lane gave me an encouraging smile. “He carves things out of wood, and he twines the most beautiful wreaths for our Entwinin’ festival?—”

Chad blinked. “Your… what?”

“The Entwinin’.” Lane gave Chad a look. “It’s like Valentine’s Day, but instead of cheap candy hearts, you celebrate by twining wisteria vines into a special shape for your loved one. It’s very sentimental.”

“If you say so.”

“It is ,” Lane insisted. “People work hard on their wreaths for months, Chad. It’s a sign of commitment to a relationship . It’s a sign of emotional vulnerability . It’s a sign of… of love.”

Wow . I hadn’t realized that Lane had become such a fan of the Entwinin’, but he’d nailed it.

Chad blinked, then glanced back and forth between me and Lane. His eyebrows winged up. “Are you serious?” he demanded. “Lane, come on…”

“Lane’s right,” I cut in because I didn’t understand what had put that incredulous look on Chad’s face, but I decided I didn’t like it. “It might sound silly to an outsider, but… lots of romantic things do, when you think about it. Who decided the only way to love someone was with hearts and… and… diapered babies with wings? Cupid just had a good PR person. What matters is the love you put into a thing. What matters is taking the time to do something special for the person you care about and making them feel seen and appreciated and wanted and… and important.”

I broke off, feeling my own cheeks go hot. I was just talking about my own feelings for Lane now, and from the look on Chad’s face, he knew it.

Lane gave me a tremulous little smile, though, so I figured I hadn’t embarrassed myself too much.

Chad, on the other hand, frowned. “Huhhhh.”

I could hear the sound of Lane’s teeth grinding together from across the table. “Chad,” he snapped. “Why are you actually here? And don’t give me lies about being in the neighborhood. Is Simon…”

“Simon’s great.” Chad’s thumb fiddled with a ring on his left hand that I hadn’t even noticed. “He got a promotion. We’re buying a house.”

Lane blew out a breath. “Good,” he said, and it sounded sincere. “I’m glad for you.”

“But you’re right that I’m not here by chance. I have a gift for you.” He smiled his friendly— smarmy— smile and folded his hands on the tabletop. “A research opportunity. At UGA.”

Lane froze, his lips parting slightly, but no sound came out.

“Simon’s promotion… he’s been made dean of your old department, and they’re expanding the vet program,” Chad explained. “Adding more fieldwork, integrating teaching with hands-on animal care. You’d still get to teach, but you’d also have a chance to work directly with animals. Exactly what you said you wanted.”

Lane’s eyes flicked to me for a second, blinking rapidly. My stomach twisted.

He did that blinking thing when I offered him a second slice of cake for dessert or when he was late for work, but I started getting handsy in the shower.

It was the blink of temptation.

“You’d have access to state-of-the-art facilities,” Chad went on. “More funding than you’d know what to do with. A chance to make a real impact. They’re looking for someone to lead the program, and I told Simon you’d be perfect for it. You don’t need to be back until this summer.”

“This summer?” Lane whispered. “But…”

Kelsey returned at that moment. “Here we go! Coke for Jay. Sweet tea with lemon for Lane. And soda and lime for… the older gentleman.” She set down Chad’s drink, and I decided she deserved a really, really good tip.

Lane stared at the glass she’d set in front of him. “There are three lemon wedges in this,” he said, surprised.

Kelsey nodded. “Annie-Ruth at the Tavern told me that’s how you take your tea. Three lemons, always. Never two, never four.” She giggled like she found Lane adorable… and I couldn’t argue since I agreed. “Is that okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Lane told her with a smile. “Best thing about a small town, huh? People know you.”

Kelsey nodded.

So did I.

Chad scowled.

“I’ll need another minute with the menu to choose my entree,” he told Kelsey curtly. Once she departed again, he turned to me. His eyes narrowed, and I knew I was not going to like whatever came next. “Jay, I want you to order whatever you want today.”

I frowned. “Uh… I was planning on it. They have great rib eyes?—”

“I don’t want you to worry about the expense, alright? I know this place is probably a bit much for you,” Chad went on pleasantly. “It’s my treat.”

Hand on my Coke, I froze. Had I heard him right?

The way Lane’s expression had locked into a mixture of horror, anger, and misery suggested I had.

“Chad,” he said, voice shaking with anger. “What the hell?—?”

“Not a problem,” I told Chad tightly. “I can pay my own way.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Chad I had more than enough money—that I could buy the dang Steak n’ Bait, if such a thought ever occurred to me—but I pinched my mouth shut.

When I’d invested my last couple of thousand dollars in my friend’s start-up a few years back, I’d done it because he needed the help, and I’d had it to give, not because I had any idea I’d end up wealthy. And I didn’t tell folks in town that I had money, or even that I owned the Suds Barn, because I didn’t want them looking at me like I ought to be one of the folks in suits at the table at the front of the restaurant—all talk, talk, talk and no action. No fun .

I liked cleaning cars. I liked having time to help out my friends and neighbors. I liked being Jaybird Proud.

For half a second, though, I wavered, and I wondered whether the money would make any difference to Lane. Whether it would make up for my lack of degrees and lack of refinement and lack of ambition.

Just a few hours ago, I would have sworn he wouldn’t have cared either way, but suddenly, I wasn’t sure of anything…

Except that if I kept sitting here, I really was gonna pop Lane’s ex-boyfriend in the mouth, and then what would happen to Lane’s exciting job offer?

I was not going to ruin this for Lane.

I pushed to my feet and summoned a friendly smile. “Shoot, I just remembered I, uh… I’m not going to be able to do lunch after all.”

“Oh, no.” Lane stood too, eyes wide and worried. “Jay, are you?—?”

“Sure. Yeah. I’m fine.” I waved a hand. “Just remembered I promised I’d help… somebody with an Entwinin’… thing. I saw Chuck Gimbal out front. If I hurry, I bet I can catch a ride with him.”

I gave Lane another smile, a warmer one, because none of this was his fault. None at all. He was still the handsomest, kindest man in the world. He’d told me he only wanted casual, and I hadn’t entirely believed him, and that was my own doing. “I’ll catch you gents later.”

“I’ll see you at home?” Lane asked hopefully. “Tonight?”

“Probably, yeah.” I shrugged. “I live there, don’t I?”

It was a funny thing how a broken heart could feel so much like a sick stomach. I took a quick detour from the lobby to the men’s room, worried my breakfast was about to reappear. Fortunately, it only took a minute of me staring at my own reflection before I got my stomach back under control.

My heart was a different matter.

I didn’t know if that fucker was ever gonna work properly again.

I refused to look back at the dining room as I made my way outside. I hoped Lane was listening to Chad’s business offer, if that was what he wanted. I definitely didn’t want him to turn down his dream because his ex had acted like an utter asshole to his… landlord.

I wanted Lane for myself, yes. But I wanted him happy more than anything.

When I pushed open the front door of the restaurant, I grabbed my phone and texted Ava Siegel for a ride—I’d babysat for her brood on Valentine’s Day, and she kept reminding me she owed me a favor as well as a Purple Heart—then found a seat on a bench behind a big Entwinin’ topiary and waited for her giant minivan to appear.

This meant I had a birds’-eye view when Lane and Chad exited the restaurant.

“—an utter jerk , Chadwick! Honest to God. Were you this bad when we were together? Because if you were always such a genuinely awful, absolutely heartless human being and I was… was… blind to it, then I… I don’t even know!”

Lane sounded so miserable I wanted to walk up behind him and wrap my arms around him, but I didn’t think that would be helpful.

“Lane.” Chad sighed. “You misinterpreted?—”

“Misinterpreted what ?” Lane demanded, sounding angrier than I’d ever heard him. “You interrupting my lunch plans? You whipping your dick out in the middle of the restaurant so you could compare it to Jay’s? You insulting him because you think he doesn’t make as much money as you?” His disgust was palpable. “You’re insufferable, and you hurt his feelings. You owe him an apology.”

Chad sighed again. “Look, I admit that I could have been nicer. But Lane, I had to be a little cruel. Think of it as an intervention.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake?—”

“Seriously,” Chad continued. “Open your eyes and look around you, Lane. Lift your brain out of your dick and think . This town… this place… it’s not you . You’ve got a Bachelor’s in Animal Science from UT, a Master’s in Veterinary Pathology from Cornell, and a Doctor of Veterinary Technology from UGA.”

“I’m aware, thank you,” Lane said, voice hard.

“The American Association of Veterinary Medical Colleges awarded you the Gold Standard Veterinary Excellence Award seven years ago. Two and a half years ago, you won the UGA Excellence in Veterinary Education Award. Remember the reception at the dean’s house? How he said you had a bright future ahead of you?”

“I was there.” Lane sounded tired now. “Of course I remember.”

“And can you actually look me in the eye and tell me that man would turn down a job like the one I offered you so he could stay in some hick town and make calf’s eyes at Jaybird Proud?”

I shouldn’t have been listening to this conversation, and I knew it. When I was growing up, Grandma Emmaline used to tell me, “ Eavesdroppers never hear nothin’ but bad news, Jaybird. ” But at that moment, a crowbar couldn’t have pried me out of my hidey-hole behind the topiary.

Way deep down, beyond the pain and heartbreak, there was still a small kernel of hope inside me that Lane would pick me—and the Thicket—and tell Chad to take his stupid job and his even stupider, smarmy smile and fuck off (but politely).

I leaned forward expectantly.

I was not expecting to hear Lane’s laugh ring out—hollow, yes, but still.

And I was not expecting to hear the man I loved say the words, “God. You’re right. You’re right, Chad. I definitely would not have.”

The blood rushing in my ears meant I didn’t have to hear anything else after that.