He held my hand at the diner.
Just for a moment.
Long enough for old Mrs. Alder to raise her eyebrows.
Long enough for two teenage boys in the back booth to glance over and then quickly look away.
Long enough for me to realize—
We weren't hiding anymore.
---
"Thought we were keeping things quiet," I teased, sipping my coffee.
Jesse stirred his black coffee with one hand, the other still resting beside mine on the table.
"I'm done pretending you don't belong to me."
That one sentence sent a slow heat through my chest.
A different kind of warmth than the usual fire between us.
This one was safe.
This one felt like home.
---
But small towns don't stay quiet when something stirs.
By the time we left, the whispers had already started.
"He's how much older than him?"
"Isn't that kid... the sheriff's son?"
"I heard he used to be with someone. That other guy who got sent away."
Jesse heard it too.
I saw the way his jaw clenched.
Saw the twitch in his hands.
But he didn't turn back.
He just opened the truck door for me.
And kissed my temple in full view of the windowed front of the diner.
---
Evan was waiting when we got back to the garage.
Leaning against the hood of Jesse's truck.
Arms folded.
"Making it public now, huh?" he said, eyes flicking to me, then back to Jesse.
Jesse didn't rise to the bait.
"Not making anything. Just living."
Evan stepped closer.
"Do you know what people are going to say?"
"Don't care."
"Jesse—" He exhaled, tone dropping. "You spent three years trying to rebuild your name. You want to throw that away for a kid?"
I opened my mouth.
But Jesse beat me to it.
"He's not a kid. And I'd throw away the whole goddamn town if it meant keeping him."
Evan stared.
Silent.
Then muttered, "You've changed."
Jesse smiled—tight. Dangerous.
"Yeah. I let someone love me."
---
Later, back at the apartment, I sat on the edge of the bed while Jesse knelt in front of me.
Hands on my thighs.
Face pressed to my stomach like he was grounding himself.
"You didn't have to defend me," I whispered.
"I wasn't defending you," he said. "I was choosing you."
---
We made love that night.
Not fucked.
Not played.
Just… moved together. Quiet. Steady. Real.
And in the dark, when my hands found his and our fingers tangled, I realized—
We weren't hiding anymore.
From the town.
From the past.
From ourselves.