Page 13 of Hot Under the Collar

He followed her to the front door, where a figure continued to pound against the glass. It was definitely a guy and much taller than Tabitha would’ve been. Leo went into protector mode. “Let me get it,” he insisted, positioning himself between Lynne and the door.

When he opened it, a guy with short, sandy-blonde hair and a face much like his own stared back. Leo’s jaw dropped. “Mike?”

Mike’s face mirrored his surprise. “Leo? What are you doing here?” He glanced past Leo’s head. “And why is O’Donnell’s closed? They’re never closed on the weekends.”

An aggravated Lynne wedged herself between them. “I’ll close whenever I want to, Mike. And a fine hello to you, too.”

Well, Leo thought, at least I’m not the only March who’s pissed her off today.

“We’re kind of in the middle of something,” he told his brother. “What do you need?”

Mike’s eyes shifted between them with curiosity, trying to figure out what the “something” might be at this time of morning. In a closed bar. Alone.

“Wow, Lynne. You look exactly the same,” Mike told her.

“I don’t know if, at thirty-three, I appreciate being told I look seventeen. But okay…”

“No, I mean, it’s not just you. The bar’s the same. Main Street. Everything.”

Leo didn’t like where this was going. Mike’s eyes were getting wet at the corners, all nostalgic and dreamy as he stared at Lynne. He wanted to remind Mike he was standing right there, that he certainly had changed. But then a grim, fractured expression crossed over Mike’s face.

“Mike? You okay?” Lynne asked, sounding more concerned than she’d been a moment ago.

That’s when Leo noticed the tattered backpack, the way Mike kept clutching at some dog tags in his left hand—just like Lynne did with her urn pendant when she was spiraling. Mike swallowed hard, throat working. He looked wrecked, like he’d been carrying a weight too long. Maybe worse. Mike’s face looked like Leo’s must have looked when he heard about their dad’s death.

“I just—I didn’t know where else to go,” Mike choked out.

Leo was dumbstruck by how quickly the mood had shifted.

“Come in, come in,” Lynne insisted, pushing Leo aside. She grabbed Mike a chair and told him to sit while she ducked behind the counter to grab a glass of water.

Leo studied his brother’s face as Lynne moved with calm efficiency, the realization suddenly hitting him. Mike hadn’t come back to Autumn Ridge just to visit. He’d come back because something out there had given him no choice.

5

Leo (Then)

This was the year he was supposed to have his shit together. But tonight, as he walked to O’Donnell’s alone on his twenty-second birthday, he really had no proof of it. His girlfriend was headed back home instead of out with him. He told himself this is what adulthood looked like—separate plans, separate towns, promises made in advance, compromises. But it felt more complicated than that.

The autumn air bit harder than he expected, crisp with hints of smoke and damp leaves. The concrete was still damp from the rain earlier that day.

He carried a fire extinguisher beside him as he walked, not because Lynne and Dale needed a new one at O’Donnell’s, but because he wanted to feel useful to someone tonight. He adjusted his grip as he crossed the alley toward the bar, the weight familiar against his palm. It was probably time they replaced theirs anyway. Just a drop-off. Just a practical thing and a quick birthday drink. That’s what he kept telling himself as he stepped inside.

Lynne spotted him immediately, as if she’d been looking for him all night. She smiled from across the room but waited for him to pick a seat at the bar and settle in before she came over.

“Hey, Leo. Happy birthday!”

She gave him a big hug, which surprised him. They hadn’t really talked since last year. He’d expected a glare at worst, casual avoidance at best. But the way she wrapped herself around him made him pull her closer and hold her just a moment longer than he probably should have.

“I brought this for you all,” he said, passing Lynne the fire extinguisher. “Figured you were due for a replacement.”

“Well, thanks,” she said, even though she looked confused. “I guess we could always use a spare.” She eyed him carefully. “For some reason, I thought you’d be dressed as a firefighter again this year.”

The words I like a man in uniform echoed in his mind. “Nah. Kept things simple. Borrowing that turnout gear without permission almost got me put on probation last year anyway.”

She cocked her head. “But what are you, exactly?” Lynne tapped playfully at the crooked, shiny black wings he’d strapped on before heading over, so DIY fragile he wasn’t sure they’d last the night. They were Rebecca’s. She’d made them at his place for some other event he couldn’t quite remember. Then she left them in his closet.

“Fallen angel.” He gave the wings a shimmy. Lynne smirked. He shrugged. “At least I put some thought behind it. You’re not fooling me with those cat ears.” He took a survey of her usual uniform. Black shirt. Black jeans. Low, black, lace-up boots with yellow stitching. “Looks like you’re still just a bartender tonight.”