Chapter 28: Twenty Eight

Cassie had made good on her pancake promise. She even brushed my hair while we watched something trashy on Netflix and pretended our face masks didn’t make us look like ghosts. It didn’t fix everything, but it reminded me of who I was outside of Declan’s orbit.

I was halfway through folding my laundry when my phone lit up.

Jacob:

hey wills. You didn’t text if you got home ok. all good?

i’m going to this weird little market thing near campus. want to come walk with me? no pressure.

I stared at the message for a few seconds, then typed back before I could overthink it.

Me:

Yeah. I’d like that.

—

The market was small. Just a few food stalls, handmade jewelry, fresh flowers. But the air was chilly and I liked that. The early evening light cast everything in muted yellow, and the air smelled like cinnamon, fried snacks, and the wetness of flowers.

Jacob spotted me before I saw him.

“Hey, you,” he said, walking up with a crooked smile and a bag of mini donuts in one hand. “You look better.”

I gave him a sheepish smile. “I was a bit of a mess this morning.”

He handed me a donut. “Messy mornings call for warm sugar.”

I took it gratefully. “Thanks. Its evening, though.”

We walked slowly, just weaving between stalls and people. He didn’t press. Didn’t ask where I’d gone last night or what was wrong. He just talked about the vendors, how one of them had given him a weird discount last time, how he once tried to barter with a ficus plant. It was easy. Calming.

We stopped at a stall selling handmade rings, and I reached out to touch a delicate gold one shaped like a vine.

Jacob leaned closer. “That one suits you.”

I looked up at him. He was watching me again, that quiet affection in his eyes that always caught me off guard.

“Thanks,” I said softly, suddenly unsure of where to put my hands.

He bought it without saying a word, slipped it into his pocket like he wasn’t sure he should give it to me yet.

We kept walking.

At one point, I felt his fingers brush mine. Not by accident.

I didn’t pull away.

By the time we reached the edge of the market, the sun was beginning to dip. Everything felt a little softer, like the day was exhaling.

Jacob turned toward me, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey… I know you’ve got a lot going on. I’m not trying to rush anything. I just, being with you like this? It feels nice. You feel nice.” He smiled sheepishly, “I know I always say that.”

My heart twitched.

“I like being with you too,” I said honestly.

He smiled, warm and wide. “Good. Then let’s keep it simple. No pressure. Just… this.”

He reached out again, and this time when his fingers found mine, I laced them together, squeezing.

“Okay,” he said, stopping in front of a stall with handmade leather journals. “I dare you to pick the one that looks like it would hold your most scandalous secrets.”

I stilled, thinking of the scandalous secret I was actually carrying with me.

Jacob’s hand on my arm jolted me awake. I raised a brow. “Scandalous? You think I’m scandalous?”

He grinned. “I have suspicions.”

I smiled and picked up a deep red journal with gold corners and a slightly frayed spine. “This one.”

Jacob took it from my hands and opened it. “Yup. Definitely this one. This is the ‘dear diary, you wouldn’t believe what I did last night’ edition. It looks like some woman’s sex diary.”

I laughed. “Really, sex diary?”

He watched me with that soft smile again. It reached his eyes.

“You’re really beautiful when you’re not overthinking,” he said.

I blinked. “Am I overthinking?”

He tilted his head. “Only like eighty percent of the time. And too obviously, at that.”

I rolled my eyes but bumped his shoulder with mine. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“So lucky,” he said, deadpan. He felt almost taken aback at the compliment.

We kept walking, stopping at a stall with vintage postcards. I thumbed through them. There were pictures of sunsets, scribbled handwriting in faded ink, stamps from countries I’d never visited. I turned one over and read aloud: “‘I miss the sound of you laughing in the morning. Come back soon. L.’”

Jacob peeked over my shoulder. “Damn. That’s so much better than any text I’ve ever gotten.”

“I know, right?” I said softly, still holding the postcard. “People used to write poetry for their lovers. Now all I get is a sup.”

He looked at me for a moment. “What would yours say?”

I glanced up at him, feeling a little brave. “I’d write, Thank you for today. I didn’t know I needed it until I had it.”

He smiled again, but it was quieter this time. “Then I’d write back, ‘Anytime. Always.’”

My chest tightened, but in a gentler way than it had all day.

I slipped the postcard into the small paper bag he was carrying with the donuts and a tiny bracelet I’d picked up earlier. A silent little keepsake. A reminder to myself.

As the sky darkened into dusk, we stopped at a small booth selling candied almonds. Jacob bought a pack and handed it to me.

“Don’t say I never give you anything,” he said, mock seriously.

“I won’t,” I said. “You gave me carbs and sweet treats. That’s diamonds to me.”

He laughed, then gently pulled me a step closer, just enough for me to feel the warmth of his body slightly. “You ever get tired of being so effortlessly funny?”

I looked up at him, cheeks flushed from the sunset. I rolled my eyes.

“Only when it makes people fall in love with me,” I teased.

He held my gaze, and for the first time, something shifted between us. Something quiet but unmistakable.

“I’m not afraid of that,” he said.