Jane was just sliding the key into Jace's door when she heard footsteps coming up the hallway. She paused, hand still on the brass knob, and turned.
There he was—Jace Liebert, right on time.
He wore his usual outfit: a simple brown coat over a white shirt, black pants neatly pressed. His hair was a little longer now, slightly curly, parted 70-30, framing his fair face and those soft, almost delicate features.
He really was quite pretty, she thought—not in a flashy way, but the kind of good-looking that grew on you the longer you looked. Gentle eyes, a mouth that always seemed ready to smile shyly.
"Jacey," she said gently, voice warm and fond as she stepped away from his door. "It's been a whole week since I saw you. Have you been hiding from me again?"
He stopped a few steps away. A small, awkward smile tugged at his lips, and she caught the faint flush creeping up his neck.
"Ah, Jane… you're the one who's been hiding," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've been right here the whole time. Do you like your work that much?"
She noticed the pink on his cheeks deepen just a fraction.
Jane smiled to herself, amused.
Jace had always been shy, but with her it was different—more pronounced, more endearing. She'd figured it out about a year ago: the boy had a stubborn little crush on her.
She'd expected it to fade as he got older, but if anything it had settled in deeper, quiet and persistent.
And honestly? She didn't mind. It made him even more adorable.
"The work is fine, I suppose," she answered softly. "The only real problem is having to stay there four days a week. But that's acceptable—the pay is good, and I get three full days off."
She'd only started a few months ago as a maid-servant for the widowed Lady Warrick in Cherwood Borough's rich area . The pay was better than most jobs for a girl her age, and the work wasn't too hard.
"Oh, I see," Jace replied, glancing at the keys still in her hand. "Were you going into my apartment?"
Jane looked down at them and gave a small laugh. "Ah, yes. It's been a while, so I thought I'd check the condition of the place."
"I always keep my place clean," he said quickly, a tiny frown creasing his brow.
"Of course," she said, eyes sparkling with quiet amusement. "I believe you."
"I really do."
"Of course you do."
"I do," he insisted, voice turning serious, almost earnest.
Jane held his gaze for a long second, then let out a soft chuckle. "Alright, that's enough. Come on—don't just stand there. I was about to cook. Let's have dinner together."
Jace hesitated for half a heartbeat, then nodded. "Okay."
They stepped into her apartment instead.
Jane's place always smelled faintly of lavender soap and fresh bread—clean, warm, comforting. A small vase of dried flowers sat on the side table by the door. The curtains were light cream, letting in the last of the evening glow. A knitted throw lay folded over the back of the sofa. Everything was tidy, lived-in but cared for.
As they reached the living room, Jane moved behind him and gently tugged at the shoulders of his coat. "Go freshen up in the washroom. I'll hang this."
Jace complied without protest, slipping out of the coat and handing it over. He disappeared down the short hallway with the easy familiarity of someone who'd been here dozens of times.
Jane stood there for a moment, coat draped over her arm, watching the way his shoulders moved under the white shirt as he walked away. Then she turned toward the coat hanger by the door.
She paused.
Instead of hanging it right away, she lifted the fabric closer to her face. Just a small, secret inhale.
He smelled nice.
Clean cotton, a hint of soap, and something warmer—his own scent, faint but unmistakable.
As always.
A tiny, private smile curved her lips.
She finally hung the coat properly, smoothing the collar with her fingers, then headed to the kitchen.
____
After splashing water on his face and running a comb through his hair in Jane's familiar washroom, Jace stepped back into the living room. He sat on the edge of the sofa, hands resting on his knees, waiting. The apartment felt cozy in the lamplight—quieter than his own place, softer somehow. He could hear Jane moving around in the kitchen: the clink of plates, the soft scrape of a spoon against a pot. His heart hadn't quite settled yet from seeing her at his door.
A few minutes later she came out carrying two plates of simple stew—potatoes, carrots, a bit of meat—and thick slices of bread. She set them on the small dining table near the window.
"Come eat," she said, sitting across from him.
They started eating quietly at first, the kind of comfortable silence that came from years of being neighbors. Then Jace cleared his throat.
"Where's Janet?" he asked. "Haven't seen her around lately."
Jane smiled faintly. "She's staying with Jenna for a couple of days. Jenna's working as a maid in Empress Borough now—got a good position in one of the noble houses. Janet wanted to see the fancy streets, so she went along."
Jace nodded. "That's nice. Jenna always wanted something bigger."
They ate a bit more, spoons clinking against bowls.
Jane looked up. "What about you? Busy tomorrow?"
Jace hesitated, then decided on a half-truth. "Yeah, actually. I won't be in Cherwood all day. There's a library in North Borough with some old records I need to check . They have better archives for history and geography. Might take most of the day."
It wasn't entirely a lie.
He was going to North Borough, but not for school records. Bravehearts Bar was tucked near the Backlund Bridge, close enough to the North Borough edge that the excuse felt safe. He needed to find Isengard Stanton's gathering—get a memory-recall artifact first, then figure out the rest.
Jane tilted her head slightly. "Sounds important. Don't overwork yourself, Jacey. You're already teaching and bookkeeping."
He gave a small laugh. "I'll be fine."
She watched him for a second longer, then smiled softly. "Good. Just… come back in one piece."
They finished the meal like that—quiet conversation, easy glances, the warmth of the room settling around them.