Page 43 of Burning Hearts
“Listen,” he said, breath low, eyes on the Commons.
He had a spare earbud snaked to his phone.
“Beau’s counting down in ten,” he added. “Your name rolls first.”
He slipped the bud into my ear and swept the cord behind it, knuckles brushing the edge of my jaw.
Nothing showy—just a clean motion that lit up more nerves than it had any right to.
His aftershave, his breath, the quiet weight of him a breath away, all landed at once.
In my ear, Beau said, “And we’re up in eight, seven…”
Ellis angled his shoulder so we both faced the Commons, his forearm a calm line across mine.
“Hit it clean,” he murmured. “Lead with ‘Public space, public safety.’ Close with ‘We love a crowd that can pass a stroller and a wheelchair without talking about it.’”
“Copy,” I said.
Drier than usual.
“Three, two…”
Beau moved in and held his phone up between us, streaming to however manyTown Talkfollowers were bored enough to tune in. Beau performed it like only Beau can.
“We’re here with Cade Briggs, Brickyard partner. Cade, I am legally required by torch-bearer Tansy Langford to ask: how do we keep today prettyandsafe?”
“Public space,” I said to the lens, “means public safety. Keep lanes clear, keep cables covered, and if you’re holding something that flickers, it better be battery-powered.”
Ellis nudged me, obviously wanting me to repeat his line.
I cleared my throat and added, “We love a crowd that can pass a stroller and a wheelchair without talking about it.”
“Romance you can recharge,” Beau purred like a cat.
“You can’t say recharge,” I deadpanned. “We’re talking about candles here, remember?”
“But I just did!” he said, thrilled. “Back to the poll. Ohh, look, fifty/fifty. Democracy is teasing us, ladies and gentlemen.”
The lens swung away, and the town laughed at Beau for being Beau as he strolled off.
Beside me, Ellis didn’t move until the clear came through my ear. He plucked the bud with quick efficiency and the cord slipped free with a soft sound I felt more than heard. We straightened a fraction too fast. Professional men putting air back where it belonged.
“Appreciate the rescue,” I said. “Could’ve done without my close-up.”
Ellis laughed and said, “You’re welcome. The camera loves you. The internet doesn’t need that much content.”
“Neither do my coworkers,” I said. “They’d put it on a cake.”
“That’s inevitable,” he said. “Might as well give them good frosting.”
We didn’t move. The doorway held us there like it was curious which way this was going. His shoulder brushed mine, or mine brushed his—I couldn’t say whose fault it was. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, quick and bright.
The Commons got very far away for half a second.
My brain finally remembered how to work.
Miss Pearl drifted up with two to-go coffees and the kind of seeing eyes that make you check your posture.
