18. Lynne （Now）
Lynne (Now)
Lynne woke up on the floor, still positioned between the guest bed and playpen where they’d been keeping watch over Twig all night. Her back was stiff and contorted, but hers and Leo’s arms still touched. Leo was slumped beside her.
She immediately crawled over to Twig and was relieved to find him still breathing. Leo stirred awake as she readied the scale and notepad.
“He made it,” she said softly.
Leo’s eyes lit up beneath his rumpled hair, dimples peeking through his scruff.
Twig’s weight was slightly higher than before, body warmer to the touch, squeaks louder. When they set him against Mama’s belly, he latched on stronger and fed longer before tuckering out.
They sent Dr. Hart a summary, and his reply came almost immediately: Good. Keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll touch base again tomorrow unless you say something has changed. But I’m cautiously optimistic.
It was palpable, the way they both relaxed when Lynne read the message aloud.
Leo asked if she wanted the bathroom first, so she went in and threw some water on her face and freshened up.
What she really wanted, though, was coffee.
So she was pleased when she emerged to an earthy, caramelized smell coming from the kitchen, where Leo was already brewing them a fresh pot.
She hovered at the edge of the guest room, just out of Leo’s sight, watching the confident way he navigated her kitchen like he’d always belonged there. She bit at her lower lip.
When had Leo become so grown-up? He’d been a chubby, shy kid.
Gentle. Always half-hidden behind his older brother.
Back then, confidence wasn’t a language he spoke.
He was the boy who let other people answer for him, who didn’t mind slipping into the background.
But everything changed after Mike left, after his dad died in the bar fire, after his mom folded under the weight of grief.
Somewhere in all of that, Leo stopped disappearing.
He found his own voice. Then he’d grown into it while she wasn’t watching him.
Broad shoulders, easy smile, that quiet strength that didn’t need announcing.
And now? Now he was taller than her. Now he was a firefighter.
Now he regularly teased her without blushing or looking away.
Now he was a man who, quite frankly, did things that made her brain short-circuit.
And every time she tried to convince herself otherwise, all he had to do was look at her, and her resistance dissolved.
The Halloween before her dad died, she’d wanted it, too.
They’d become friends, texting all the time when his shifts were slow.
Their breakfast tradition was warm and flirtatious, but, secretly, it had always left her wanting more.
The thought of kissing him, of his hands running down her body, had worked its way into her brain like a slow-burning fuse.
So when he’d pulled her close and traced his lips down her neck just one year ago, it had been hard to resist.
Lynne felt flush and pressed her hand against her cheek.
Then life happened. Life took a big shit on the whole possibility.
She’d mulled what could’ve happened between them more than once.
If she’d called Leo after getting her dad’s meds last Halloween, if she’d indulged in more with him so soon after the breakup with Andrew, then Leo would’ve just been a rebound.
And if she’d pressed for more than comfort from him the night her dad died, the hangover of grief would’ve had her feeling guilty in the morning.
It wasn’t like she didn’t want him again by then, let alone how she desperately wanted a distraction and release from the pain that night.
But Leo was the closest thing she had to a true friend, someone who really knew her, by then. And she couldn’t risk losing that.
Maybe that’s what scared her—and pissed her off sometimes.
He’d gotten close enough to mean something to her again.
And every time someone meant anything, inevitably they were taken from her.
Her mom. Her dad. Her cat. She’d had enough loss to last a lifetime.
If she admitted Leo could be more than just a friend, she was just setting herself up for more heartbreak.
She’d played around with the thought once or twice. What it would be like to really try with Leo. Especially when he was standing in her kitchen looking like that.
Dangerous thoughts before coffee, though.
Safer to focus on what they’d just done together.
They’d kept Twig alive through the worst night of his tiny life.
She felt her phone buzz in her back pocket.
The Nine wanting a status update, the internet wanting more photos and reels, what felt like half of Autumn Ridge asking about the runt.
She slid past Leo to the refrigerator for the creamer and glanced over her shoulder. “Want to do a quick livestream? I think everyone will be just as relieved to know Twig’s better today.”
He agreed, but only once they’d had their coffee and he had a chance to brush his teeth and hair.
Lynne took a few photos and a video of Twig looking perky and posted them while she waited for him to get ready.
He stepped out of the bathroom looking like his old, cheery self, before the close calls and nearly sleepless nights.
His cologne smelled woodsy and full of vanilla as he sat on the couch beside her.
His hair was controlled disorder—thick black strands that fell against the dark eyelashes of his right eye, effortlessly cool yet somehow still perfect no matter how many times he pulled a hand through it.
Maybe he missed his calling, she thought.
Maybe he should’ve been a model. But then that would’ve meant she’d barely ever see him in Autumn Ridge.
Leo turned toward her, and her heartbeat kicked up. “Ready?” he asked.
She swallowed hard. “It’s not fair,” she said.
“What?”
“Your hair. The way it always—I think I need a new hairdresser.”
Leo shook his head and chuckled softly.
“What?”
“I’ll tell my mom to put you on her list.”
“Ohh,” said Lynne. “Got it. Artist mother. Hair that’s artistry. Makes sense.”
She couldn’t take her eyes off him, though. A slow heat climbed from her abdomen to her face just as he broke the spell with a smile and another “Ready?”
She still wasn’t quite sure she was. But Leo pressed the button on her phone as they started streaming.
They thanked everyone for their concern yesterday and shared how a veterinarian swung by last night to help.
Leo even publicly declared that the Autumn Ridge vet clinic should look into Nolan Hart.
“Five stars,” he told the camera. “Six stars if I’m being honest.”
They walked the phone over to the guest bedroom, where followers could see Twig curled against Mama’s belly, full and warm—and if Dr. Hart was right—finally out of the woods, at least for now.
The comments centered around how good Twig looked, congrats, and asking what Dr. Hart had done to get Twig back on his four fluffy paws, until one username popped up with a little knife to throw.
“This is why fosters should be licensed,” Lynne read aloud. “This isn’t cute content for some bar. You clearly don’t know what you’re doing. You could’ve killed that kitten.”
As she finished reading the comment aloud, her voice grew quiet with embarrassment. She froze, trying to keep a lid on all the negative thoughts she’d put to bed when they found Twig alive and well this morning. But it was hard. Everything was suddenly fresh and raw.
Leo cleared his throat. “Now wait a minute. Lynne knows exactly what she’s doing. These kittens couldn’t be safer,” he told their feed. “Trust me. She took care of her dad when he was dying. Then took over his business.”
Lynne gulped and lowered her eyes. But his words lit a spark that suddenly warmed her.
He continued, more insistent. “I mean, if she worked at the station, she’d definitely be the one driving the truck. Lynne’s the most capable person I’ve ever known.”
Without thinking, he placed his hand on her thigh and gave it a comforting squeeze.
She glanced up into his chocolate-brown eyes, and a shock of electricity ran through her core.
The memories came flooding back. Of him.
Of every time he’d said the exact right thing when she needed to hear it most. Including now.
“Thanks, Leo,” she said, not breaking his gaze. She bit her lip. The way he’d come to her defense wasn’t just cute. It was five-alarm-fire hot.
Leo’s voice lowered. “I know how it feels, to be told you’re not enough. You are, Lynne. Don’t let some online troll convince you otherwise.”
Somehow, as he was saying all this, his face had inched closer to hers.
The comments came flying in. Ding. Ding. Ding.
Are they gonna kiss?!
I TOLD you they were a couple!
Well if they aren’t yet, they’re about to be.
And a part of her knew, if she did what she wanted to do next on a livestream, it would be completely inappropriate. Not at all social media-friendly.
“Gotta go,” she told the followers and abruptly closed the feed. She slammed the laptop shut.
Her eyes locked on Leo, his hand still firm on her thigh.
His mouth fell open. “Did I say too much? About your dad?”
“No,” she muttered.
“Then why did you—?”
She clutched the front of his hoodie between her fingers and pulled his face toward hers.
Their lips met once, soft and careful, like she was asking him a question.
Their second kiss answered—longer, firmer, her hands sliding along his jawline into his hair.
Then her tongue caught his, and the air between them snapped.
He gathered her in his arms like they couldn’t get close enough, their kisses turning wild, urgent, something they’d both been trying not to admit.
She didn’t even realize she’d straddled his lap until she felt him squeezing her ass, the firmness of his cock pressed into her abdomen. Their hips rolled together.