9. Leo

CHAPTER 9

leo

Sitting with Love between my thighs as they stitched me up felt like an act of contrition. Or maybe the universe was paying me back for how I'd handled things. Their gentle touch brought up that same sharp heartbreak all over again. I wished there were words in the dictionary to convince them to give me another try.

I should probably—definitely—keep my mouth shut. God knew Ginger—and Major and Beckett and Ren, among others—had tried to teach me I didn't have to say everything that came into my head, but it was a lesson I failed with predictable regularity.

"I'm sorry for how I ended things."

Diving headfirst into the awkward it is.

Love's jaw tightened. "You already apologized," they said, adding another stitch. "And do you really want to get into this while I'm jabbing you with a needle?"

"I'd deserve whatever pain you wanted to dish out."

"It doesn't work like that." Love finished the last stitch, spending extra time on the knot before looking me in the eyes. "And I was kidding—I'd never hurt you on purpose."

"I know."

A painful silence descended between us as they covered the stitches with a couple of serious-looking bandages.

"These are waterproof. I'll give you a few to take with you so that you can change them out tonight."

"Okay."

Love was being nicer than they had to be, and I didn't know what to do with that.

Pathetic.

"So, are you seeing anyone?" Love asked, then grimaced. Then cursed, as though maybe they hadn't meant to ask that.

Great. My awkward was catching.

"No. I'm probably asexual."

Jesus, Leo. Nobody needs to know about your barren sex life.

Love's brows stitched together as they pulled off their gloves. "That's not quite how I remember it."

I blushed, reminded of how soft their lips were.

"Well, graysexual, probably. Demisexual, maybe? Basically, I don't have much interest in sex… with exceptions."

Love pulled a face, then opened and closed their mouth as though they couldn't decide which was the better option.

"Actually, as far as I could tell, there was only one exception, and as you already know, I fucked that up."

Dammit, Leo. Shut. Up.

Love shook their head like they'd just gone through a cloud of no-see-ums. "So, you haven't ever… consensually…"

I'd never shared as much of my history with others—even my therapists—as I had with Love. The way they carefully asked that question made me want to rip my heart out of my chest and leave it on the side of the road on my way back to Seguin.

"No," I responded, my voice slightly croaky. "But you… you had a relationship?"

They grimaced. "I shouldn't have told you that."

"You can tell me the truth." I punctuated this with a hopefully casual-looking go-ahead gesture. "Whatever it is."

I didn't know why I wanted to know so badly, but I did.

They eyed me warily, then let out a slow breath. "I'd done most of my undergrad through online courses, so when I found myself single, I decided to have a college experience."

Ouch.

I could tell there was more, so I braced for impact.

"And my last year in Colorado, I was in a semiserious relationship."

Ouch, ouch, ouch.

"I was wrong," I said as I rubbed my chest. "That hurt. A lot."

Love sent me an accusing glare. "You said I could tell you."

"I know." I wanted to cry, so I bit the inside of my lip until the feeling went away. "Sorry."

"It wasn't like some big storybook romance," they said, as if they owed me any explanation. "We both knew it had an expiration date, and it ended amicably. We got what we needed and were ready to move on."

"So, they weren't, like, the love of your life?" I asked, because apparently, I was a masochist.

Love tilted their head and raised their brows at me with this look I couldn't quite read. "No, Leo." There was a soft sort of exasperation to their words, like when we used to have these meandering conversations, and I'd ruin the moment by saying I didn't know what they saw in me. They'd take my hands and gaze into my eyes while telling me how much they liked me and why. They'd always insisted they wanted me exactly as I was. Not as a fantasy or as a sex object, but as me.

I'd tried as hard as I could, but in the end, I never truly believed them. When I thought about it, I hadn't given them the trust they'd earned.

God, I was such a fucking idiot.

Stop calling yourself that. That's the trauma talking.

Okay, fine. But I hadn't exactly been smart .

"Y'all ready to experience the miracle of childbirth?" Levy appeared with his husband, Javier, mercifully cutting short this painful fucking conversation.

"Just about," Love said, applying Steri-Strips to one of my smaller cuts.

I wasn't wearing any underwear, so I kept on my swim trunks and shimmied into Erik's jeans—which were only a little tight—then stepped back into my old kicks and followed Love to the larger stalls at the other side of the training area.

We sat there for a little while, shooting the shit with Levy and Javier as the mares moved restlessly in their stalls, snorting and pawing at the ground. One of them rolled around in the hay, and Love explained she was repositioning the foal to prepare to give birth.

Apparently, this was the same mare who'd had a tricky delivery before, and I could tell that Love was nervous. Still, they knew what they were doing, and I knew they'd be able to handle anything.

Just as I was starting to get bored, both mares started presenting—the less said about that, the better—at the same time. Javier and I took on one mare while Love and Levy took the higher-risk one.

Thankfully, we ended up having to do very little save stand guard while the mares did their thing. The one who'd rolled around had done a great job of getting her foal in a better position, it seemed, and it arrived first. Our mare went shortly after, and fascinating but gross was the best way to describe it.

Even though I'd only made sure everyone's canteens were topped off, I was exhausted by the time the gangly, alien-looking foals made their way into the world.

Javier and Levy knew what to look for after that and asked Love if they wouldn't mind being on call. Love, in their typical laid-back style, was happy to agree.

We washed up—even though I didn't have a speck of horse goo on me—and Erik told me to keep the jeans. After that, we said our goodbyes and headed back to the truck.

"Any update on the tires?" Love asked as they unlocked the doors.

I checked my phone notifications. "It'll be a few more hours still."

"Wanna go to lunch?"

I lifted a shoulder and resisted the urge to preen as their eyes tracked the movement. "I could eat."

Ten minutes later, we walked into the Broken Oak. "Leo! We haven't seen you around here in a hot minute," Oliver, the owner, said as soon as he spotted us. His eyes darted between me and Love. "It's nice to see you two hanging out again." I gave him a thin-lipped smile while Love accepted his effusive hug.

Sandy, their short, curvy bartender, stepped from behind the bar and threw her arms around me, her forehead coming to the middle of my chest. "Missed you, big guy."

"If I'd known I'd get this kind of reception, I would've come back sooner," I joked.

She laughed and smacked my arm, then gestured for us to sit wherever we wanted. Oliver took our orders. Both of us went for a Dr Pepper and the daily special, and I tried not to read too much into it.

I turned instead to the recently updated interior, enjoying how Oliver had infused the Broken Oak with a sense of modern style. Green plants dotted the place, and the furniture was a mix of modern wood with overstuffed leather. Gorgeous landscapes decorated the walls, and I remembered Oliver liked to feature local artists, like Sparrow's mom.

Despite my not having been here in years, it felt like home.

Somewhere in my pondering, Sandy set down our sodas, and I took a long drink, groaning at the taste.

"I see you still like Dr Pepper," Love noted with an amused smirk.

"Always."

We sat like that for a while, and the silence wasn't too bad. Maybe a little awkward, but I didn't trust myself to say anything worth a damn.

"You've changed," Love said, touching my wrist.

I looked down at the contact, willing my heart to slow the fuck down. They didn't mean anything by it. "I would hope so," I said, pulling a face.

They shook their head. "There was never anything wrong with you, Leo. You're just… more mature now, I think."

"Why do people keep telling me that? Was I really so immature before?"

Love scratched their chin, thoughtful. "Mature might be the wrong word. If I think about it, you were always highly observant. You've always been good at getting right to the point, though not in an unkind way."

"Oh." I grimaced. "That's the hypervigilance."

They shook their head. "What does that mean?"

I tapped my temple. "According to my therapist, I had to develop a keen sense of pattern recognition to keep myself safe in unsafe environments. That meant I learned to see things that other people missed. Once I started feeling safe, I just started saying what I was seeing because I didn't know how else to start a conversation."

"Interesting."

Love's hand lingered on my wrist, though I wasn't sure I was meant to notice.

"So, yeah, if I seem different, it's because I sometimes think before I speak."

" Sometimes ," Love said, not bothering to hide their smile.

"I'm trying," I whined, appreciating the playfulness of our exchange. I'd forgotten how much I'd loved bantering with them.

"I know you are." Love slid their hand into mine, gazing at it intently before lifting it to kiss my knuckles. I inhaled sharply at the pillowy touch of their lips on my skin.

Fuck, they were so pretty.

I loved the way their sunlit hair curled around their ears and neck. The way their style kind of reminded me of this place: a mix of influences, and yet still all their own.

Someone cleared their throat, and I looked up. It was Oliver, with our massive sandwiches, each accompanied by a pile of waffle fries.

I took my hand back, holding it against my chest.

"Here's your lunch," Oliver said, a twinkle in his eyes.

I wondered what he thought he saw, and if it felt as big to him as it did to me. Love's stomach growled as they started in on their sandwich, and whatever moment we'd just had was over.

Just as well.

Hungry from all the work, I dug in. I demolished my sandwich and fries in record time, then eyeballed Love's leftovers. They chuckled and pushed their plate to me.

"I'm always so hungry after work. Major says he's never seen someone eat as much as I do," I explained.

"You always had an impressive appetite."

Their eyes tracked across my shoulders and down my torso, so I sat up and broadened my chest. I saw a TikTok about the Pavlovian response, and boy, was that me around Love. If they showed even fleeting appreciation, I was preening like a peacock.

Again, pathetic .

I managed to finish lunch without embarrassing myself further, and I sneakily paid for the meal on my way to the bathroom.

"You didn't have to do that," Love said when we went to leave. "You're the one who helped us out last night. And again this morning."

I shrugged. "I got a nice raise with my promotion, and I don't mind buying you lunch."

Their cheeks pinked, and my heart ached with how badly I'd fucked things up. If I could have one wish, it'd be to fix things with Love and never let them go.

My knuckles still tingled with the memory of Love's lips, proving once again that, even if I'd matured in some ways, I hadn't matured past this.

And I wondered how long it was going to keep breaking my heart.