26. The Plot Drowns

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Leo focused on the sound of his feet hitting pavement – the rhythmic smack, smack, smack that kept him from thinking too hard. The huff of air from his nose. The beat of the music in his left ear.

What he tried to ignore was the sound of Jackson dying next to him.

"I c-ca-can't," Jackson wheezed, stopping mid-stride. He bent over, hands on knees, gasping like he'd just narrowly escaped a haunted house – or a treadmill.

Leo didn't stop.

They both hit the gym daily—but unlike Leo, Jackson treated cardio like it was a government conspiracy. The man had the stamina of a dad who thinks walking to the fridge counts as a warm-up. If it didn't involve mirrors, protein powder, or flexing, Jackson wasn't interested.

Leo pressed on, grateful for the silence.

Smack, smack – inhale, exhale. He would not think about Ainsley. He would not think about that kiss. Or the second one. Or the way she looked at him like he dropped a match on her soul and didn't bother to watch it burn. But he had tried – she's the one who burned him. He couldn't believe what he saw.

Then Queen kicked in.

Another One Bites the Dust.

Leo nearly lost his stride.

What. The. Hell.

Was that about him? No. Psshh. He chuckled. Coincidence.

Skip.

All Out of Love.

Growling, he skipped again.

Bleeding Love.

Leo tripped.

"Oh, come on," he muttered, yanking his phone out mid-jog. "Is my playlist drunk?"

He was too busy glaring at the screen to notice the crunch of gravel beside him. Until he saw wheels.

Jackson had somehow acquired an ATV in the minutes he had left him behind and was now cruising alongside him like a suburban cowboy, complete with the tip of his non-existent hat.

Leo slowed to a stop, panting.

"Did you die? Please say yes," Jackson called out, pulling up beside him like he hadn't just wheezed his way through a zombie apocalypse.

Leo didn't answer. He was too busy trying to breathe like a normal person.

Jackson grinned, oblivious. "Hold up, man. I love this song." He cranked the volume and started bobbing his head to OneRepublic, belting out, "It's too late to apologize..."

Off-key. Loud. Unapologetic.

Leo turned and stared at him—brows lowered, jaw tight, like Jackson had just read his diary out loud in a crowded room. He shrugged. "I didn't make the playlist."

"How did-" Leo took a breath, trying to process the ATV situation. "How did you even-" Another breath. "You know what, never mind. What are you doing?"

Jackson shrugged, casual as ever. "I was thinking we could go do something."

Leo raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

Jackson perked up. "Let's hit the gym."

Leo nodded, automatic. "Sure-"

Jackson smacked the steering wheel. "Ugh, no! All we ever do is hit the gym. Can't you just take me out for once? Like, somewhere nice? Is that so hard?"

Leo blinked. "What?"

Jackson kept going. "I mean, seriously. We never go anywhere. You never plan anything. All I hear is Ainsley this and Ainsley that, yet I never hear anything that I've done. I flew across the country to be with you. It's like you're embarrassed to be seen with me."

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