He starts tossing the shirts like T-shirt cannons. The room erupts. Laughter, squeals, carnage.
I put my hands on my hips. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“Nope, no jokes here,” Owen sings.
“Funny, funny, funny,” I say when they finally stop. “You can stay if you want—but if you do, you’re helping.”
“Oh no,” Ty says immediately. “We’re not staying.”
Owen nods. “Absolutely not.”
They lean back against the wall, Ty even dropping his things for good measure.
“But we will watch for a few minutes,” Owen adds. “For quality control.”
The women eat it up. Even Juliette shakes her head, laughing. “Sawyer. Focus. It’s a workshop.”
“Right,” I say. “Which is why I need an assistant.” I glance around. “Where’s my assistant?”
There’s a beat before Theo appears from behind the counter, wearing an apron that saysPLANT BUDDY.
The women melt. As if that wasn’t enough, I slip on my ownPLANT DADDYapron, and as the ladies start to oooh and ahhh, the guys cheer.
Juliette looks at me. “How did Theo get one?”
“Ask Charlie,” I say, nodding my head toward the culprit. “He made them.”
She stares at me a beat before dragging her eyes to take inTheo, then back to me. And somehow, for a second, it feels like we’re in this together.
“Okay,” I say, turning back to the pothos, and the women waiting for my instructions, and I clap my hands together. “Let’s get dirty.”
I’m sittingin my car outside Juliette’s apartment building because I forgot the hoodies.
That’s the official reason. The responsible reason. The one I will be sticking to.
On the passenger seat are two folded hoodies. One is navy and gold, ridiculously soft, signed by the Dominion roster. The other is smaller, plain, and very clearly meant for a nine-year-old who takes his hockey seriously.
Theo’s hoodie. That one matters.
I was supposed to give them to her earlier. At the shop. We were standing right there. Talking. Laughing. Being normal. And somehow my brain decided that was the perfect time to completely forget I’d brought them.
They stayed in my car, which means here I am.
I tell myself this stop is about Theo. Which it is. Mostly. I also tell myself it’s no big deal that I took the long way over. Or that she didn’t actually invite me. Or that I saw her a few hours ago and absolutely could have handled this then if I were a more organized adult.
But I didn’t.
And if I’m being honest, realizing that gave me a very convenient excuse to see her again.
So if she asks why I’m here, I’ll say I was already nearby. That I was driving past. That this just made sense. All technically true. In the loosest possible way.
Feeling marginally more confident than I deserve, I grab the hoodies, get out of the car, and buzz her apartment.
“Hey,” I say when she answers. “It’s Sawyer.”
“Sawyer?” She pauses and I swear I hear the gears turning in her mind. “What are you doing here?”
“I am delivering a very important package. I forgot to give it to you earlier.”
