5. Leo （Then）
Leo (Then)
This was the year he was supposed to have his shit together.
But tonight, as he walked to O’Donnell’s alone on his twenty-second birthday, he really had no proof of it.
His girlfriend was headed back home instead of out with him.
He told himself this is what adulthood looked like—separate plans, separate towns, promises made in advance, compromises. But it felt more complicated than that.
The autumn air bit harder than he expected, crisp with hints of smoke and damp leaves. The concrete was still damp from the rain earlier that day.
He carried a fire extinguisher beside him as he walked, not because Lynne and Dale needed a new one at O’Donnell’s, but because he wanted to feel useful to someone tonight.
He adjusted his grip as he crossed the alley toward the bar, the weight familiar against his palm.
It was probably time they replaced theirs anyway.
Just a drop-off. Just a practical thing and a quick birthday drink.
That’s what he kept telling himself as he stepped inside.
Lynne spotted him immediately, as if she’d been looking for him all night. She smiled from across the room but waited for him to pick a seat at the bar and settle in before she came over.
“Hey, Leo. Happy birthday!”
She gave him a big hug, which surprised him. They hadn’t really talked since last year. He’d expected a glare at worst, casual avoidance at best. But the way she wrapped herself around him made him pull her closer and hold her just a moment longer than he probably should have.
“I brought this for you all,” he said, passing Lynne the fire extinguisher. “Figured you were due for a replacement.”
“Well, thanks,” she said, even though she looked confused. “I guess we could always use a spare.” She eyed him carefully. “For some reason, I thought you’d be dressed as a firefighter again this year.”
The words I like a man in uniform echoed in his mind. “Nah. Kept things simple. Borrowing that turnout gear without permission almost got me put on probation last year anyway.”
She cocked her head. “But what are you, exactly?” Lynne tapped playfully at the crooked, shiny black wings he’d strapped on before heading over, so DIY fragile he wasn’t sure they’d last the night.
They were Rebecca’s. She’d made them at his place for some other event he couldn’t quite remember. Then she left them in his closet.
“Fallen angel.” He gave the wings a shimmy.
Lynne smirked. He shrugged. “At least I put some thought behind it. You’re not fooling me with those cat ears.
” He took a survey of her usual uniform.
Black shirt. Black jeans. Low, black, lace-up boots with yellow stitching.
“Looks like you’re still just a bartender tonight. ”
“Excuse me? I put in just as little effort as you did, so we’re even.
” She threw her rag over her shoulder and left to make his old fashioned.
When she returned, she lowered her voice.
“So I hear you have a girlfriend. Sounds like our Leo’s all grown up.
” Lynne glanced around the busy bar, over his shoulder and off toward the bathrooms. “Where is she?”
Leo felt a sting in his chest but forced a smile as he bit into his skewered cherry. “She’s driving back to Eastmoor. Had to work early tomorrow.”
“Bummer. I was kind of hoping to meet her, see what her drink is. It tells you a lot about a person, you know.”
“Oh really? What does an old fashioned say about me?”
She shot him a cocky grin. “That you have terrible taste, and your name is Leo March.”
“So accurate,” he teased. “Are you sure bartender is your calling? You might make more money with insult comedy.”
“Oh, shut up.” She smacked his arm playfully with her rag.
“Ouch.” He rubbed where she’d just hit him, feigning pain. “Or a dominatrix with that arm.”
“You wish, Leo. Don’t make me throw you out of the bar on your birthday.”
“You know, some people around here might pay good money to see that, too.”
That made Lynne snort, and when they were done laughing, they both turned to find Ruby gawking at them. One of her eyebrows was raised.
“I think she’s still annoyed about me disappearing during clean-up last Halloween.
She’s been watching me like a hawk tonight.
” Leo clocked how Lynne’s cheeks suddenly flushed beneath her pale freckles.
She pretended the counter needed to be wiped again.
Picked up his glass, set it back down. “So you two are pretty serious, huh? You and…?”
“Rebecca.”
He took a sip of his drink as he eyed her.
What was he supposed to say? He didn’t owe her an explanation—and still, everything he wanted to say felt like a betrayal waiting to happen.
Like, if they were so serious, why couldn’t Rebecca stay for his birthday?
Why had he taken a whole week off work for hers a few months ago?
And how, when they’d finally talked about moving in together, had it become an argument?
Rebecca didn’t want to leave Eastmoor. She wanted him to uproot his life instead.
And this was turning into a pattern—expecting more from him than she was willing to give.
But he decided it was best to just meet Lynne’s question where it landed. “Sure,” he told her. “It’s been about nine months.” He finished his drink and passed it back to her.
Lynne looked as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.” She was sincere. He could tell from the way her blue eyes squinted at the corners. “Wow. Leo March has a girlfriend.” She shook her head then went to make him another drink.
She could’ve been you, he thought, and immediately hated himself for how true it felt. If she’d been ready a year ago, there wouldn’t have been a Rebecca.
Lynne passed the old fashioned glass across the bar into his hand. “Well, I better go grab drinks for table 10 or Ruby’s going to eye-shame me again. Don’t leave without your maraschino cherries, okay? Nobody else wants that crap.”
He chuckled and watched her walk off. But then he was left alone at the bar for almost an hour.
Dale swung by to wish him a happy birthday but kept things short.
Then there was Mazzy, who jumped onto his lap a few times, making the rounds for table scraps and emotional check-ins.
She always left him with a headbutt and a purr before sauntering off to the next person.
It brought him no comfort to notice that everyone Mazzy doted on tonight seemed like a loner. The quiet one in a group or some guy off to the side nursing a drink. The folks more concerned with the next jukebox selection than the fun happening around them. Was he really giving off that vibe?
He tried to keep his eyes off Lynne as she crisscrossed the floor, pub food and drinks in her hands, those tight black jeans hugging her curves in ways she probably didn’t even intend.
And he tried not to do a double take when she wrapped her hair into a messy bun, skin glowing from the heat of her swift movements.
He tried not to remember how the rest of her looked naked, how soft she’d felt everywhere he’d touched.
Whenever he caught himself thinking like that, he’d check his phone, thumb hovering where Rebecca’s name should’ve appeared by now. At any moment she would let him know she got home safe. Nothing new yet, though.
Then suddenly it was 11:45 p.m., and he felt like he’d outstayed his welcome. The bar would be closing soon. He typed out Just checking if you made it back home yet and slipped his phone into his coat.
Lynne reappeared at his side. “You okay? You look sad. Want me to get you some water?”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks. Really.”
She looked at him like she didn’t believe he was fine. “Oh, okay. I know what this is. Yes. I’ve got one for you, Leo.”
“One what?”
“A memory about your dad. To cheer you up. I didn’t forget.” She rested her elbows on the bar between them then braced her head against one hand. “Your dad didn’t really like cats, but he loved Mazzy,” she said.
As if on cue, Mazzy jumped onto Leo’s lap and tucked her forehead under his chin.
“Good girl,” Lynne cooed.
Leo ran a hand through Mazzy’s silky fur as her purr engine started. He liked this—being at O’Donnell’s again, treated like he was family. Being around Lynne. How she remembered things. How she cared. He still loved the way she said his name like he mattered.
Their eyes met, and he almost asked her a personal question then thought better of it.
“I’m gonna head back, Lynne.”
“Wait, I’ll walk you. Let me ask my dad if he needs anything first.”
Leo hesitated. “You sure?”
“Of course. Let Ruby complain all she wants. I deserve some fresh air after tonight. I’ll go grab my coat.” She pointed at his empty hands. “Where are your maraschino cherries? I swear it’s like you’re trying to leave them here. Like I said, no one wants them but you. Let me go grab those, too.”
Lynne scurried off and stopped to talk to Dale, who nodded approval before she disappeared upstairs. This time, when Leo glanced over at Ruby, she was shaking her head at him.
“What? It was her idea,” Leo said sheepishly. He placed Mazzy on the floor and shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Right,” she said. “Funny how walks around here always seem to start during closing.” Ruby scoffed and started stacking empty chairs.
Leo stepped out through the back door of O’Donnell’s into the alley and waited for Lynne. And waited some more. But the longer he stood outside, the worse he felt. Cold and guilty and unable to shake the feeling that if he wasn’t careful, tonight would turn into a bad decision.
He shuffled as far as he could from the back door of O’Donnell’s and leaned up against the cold bricks of a nearby building.
Finally, Lynne emerged, bundled up in a thin coat, red hair still piled on her head. She’d ditched the cat ears, and he suddenly remembered he’d left Rebecca’s wings on his bar stool. But it wasn’t like he had any use for them now anyway.
The moon above glowed against Lynne’s exposed neckline, and the way she looked suddenly unraveled him.
He should’ve never come back here. He should’ve been mad at her for last year, for calling the whole thing a mistake.
He thought he had moved on. But all he could think as she sauntered over to him was Fuck, Leo. You’re in trouble.
She playfully tucked the small jar of maraschino cherries into one of his coat pockets, then left her hand there, brushing his knuckles. Her fingers were ice-cold against his palms.
Leo raised an eyebrow, pretending this was casual when nothing about it felt that way.
“What?” Lynne shrugged. “You’re warm. It’s freezing out here.”
When she slipped her other hand into his other pocket, her fingers found his again, twining there like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The alley suddenly felt too quiet, too intimate.
Heat spilled across his chest. Lynne was all electric and sweet-smelling, her mouth just inches from his. Smiling up.
Leo tipped a fraction closer before he caught himself.
He couldn’t seem to stop his hands from tracing over and enfolding hers, trying to warm her inside his pockets.
The soft slide of her skin against his was a drug he’d sworn off and suddenly needed again.
A year clean, and all he craved now was another hit.
“So did Rachel…?” she whispered.
“Rebecca.”
“Did Rebecca make it home okay?”
Leo cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he sighed, “she did.”
“Good.”
He released her hands, only to find Lynne returning his touch a moment later, tracing lines along his palms with her fingertips.
Leo could already feel the lie forming, what he’d tell Rebecca when she found out.
The one where this was just a birthday drink with a friend.
Just Lynne walking him back home. But one breath closer, and he wouldn’t be able to stop it.
An apology wouldn’t make up for what this would do to Rebecca—or to how he’d see himself after.
His jaw clenched, not from resolve but from how badly he wanted it to happen anyway. He exhaled, breath stitching pale shapes into the air between them. Lynne’s gaze shifted from his eyes down to his lips.
“I’m gonna go home,” he said. “Alone.”
She shuddered, but neither of their hands moved.
“You sure?” she asked, still gazing at his mouth.
He was never more unsure of anything in his whole life. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
He watched understanding dawn on her face. Not confusion, not hurt, but awareness. Like she’d finally caught up to the line he’d been trying not to cross all night. Her hands slowly pulled from his pockets and moved to the back of her beautiful neck and rubbed there. She bit at her lip.
“Tell Dale thanks for the cherries,” he said, retreating into the alley.
“Okay.” She stepped back toward the bar door, too.
The cherries felt ridiculous and heavy in his pocket suddenly, proof of how close he’d come to taking something else home with him.
He turned toward home. “Goodnight, Lynne,” he called back over his shoulder.
Her faint “Goodnight, Leo” chased him down the alley, echoing off the bricks.