Page 25 of Love Loathe Devotion (Tightrope #3)

The bell over the café door chimes softly as I step inside, greeted by the comforting scent of roasted espresso, cinnamon, and something vaguely sweet—maybe muffins.

It’s one of those cozy little corner spots with mismatched chairs, exposed brick walls, and plants hanging lazily from every windowsill.

Sunlight streams through tall windows, dusting everything with gold.

I spot Sam immediately. She’s tucked into the booth by the window, oversized sunglasses pushed up into her strawberry-blonde hair, one hand wrapped around a to-go cup that’s probably her second latte of the day. She grins the moment she sees me.

“There she is,” she calls out, waving dramatically like I’m a celebrity and not the woman she FaceTimed in pajamas two nights ago.

I slide into the seat across from her, trying to hide the smile tugging at my lips.

I feel… floaty. Still a little raw from everything that happened this morning, but in the best way.

My body is sore in places I forgot I had, and I’m almost certain my mouth is still red from the fourth time Eddie kissed me goodbye.

“You look suspiciously glowing,” Sam says, narrowing her eyes, and, oh God, here we go.

“It’s the highlighter,” I lie, grabbing a menu even though I already know I’m ordering my usual.

“Highlighter doesn’t make you flinch a little when you sit down.”

I freeze mid-reach for my latte.

Sam leans in, her grin widening. “So… you gonna tell me, or do I have to pry it out of you like a mob boss with a grudge?”

I sigh, dropping the act entirely. “Fine. You win.”

“I always win,” she says smugly. Sam is sweet and kind but she’s also fierce and determined, and I love that about her.

I glance around the café—low hum of conversations, indie acoustic music in the background, the barista with a septum ring trying to tame the espresso machine. It’s safe. I lean in and lower my voice.

“It’s… Eddie.”

Sam’s face lights up like it’s Christmas morning. “I knew it!” she squeals. “Lucas told me last night!”

“Wait—what?” I blink. “Lucas knows?”

She nods, sipping from her cup. “Of course he knows. Eddie tells him everything.”

My stomach flips. “Okay, what exactly did Lucas say?”

Sam shrugs dramatically, her eyes twinkling. “And I quote, ‘Eddie and Laney are a thing now. I’ll kick his ass if he hurts her.’ End quote.”

I blink, processing that. A thing. That could mean anything. Or it could mean everything.

I stir my latte unnecessarily, trying to sound casual. “Did he say anything else?”

“Nope,” she says too quickly, then adds, “Well… he did say Eddie was ‘smiling like the cat that got the cream’ so there’s that. So, did he get the cream?” She waggles her eyebrows and it’s so nice to see her looking a little more carefree than the last few months that I nod.

“Eeeek.” Sam taps her feet on the ground in excitement. “I knew it.”

A soft warmth spreads through my chest. I look down at my cup, hiding the stupid little smile tugging at my lips.

“I really like him, Sam,” I admit quietly.

She softens immediately, her teasing grin giving way to something gentler. “I know, babe. And I really think he likes you too. Like… really, really.”

“I’m scared,” I admit before I can talk myself out of it. “He’s leaving to go on tour in three weeks. Europe. Months. What if this was just a… bubble? A perfect, passionate little moment that doesn’t survive the distance?”

Sam reaches across the table and takes my hand, her thumb stroking over my knuckles in that steady, grounding way only your best friend knows how to do.

Meeting Sam and Lucas and getting to know their little boy is the best thing that has happened to me in years, even if I hate the circumstances of it.

“Laney, Eddie would never hurt you. You know that, right? He’s… he’s a good one. One of the real ones. He’s not like that piece of shit, Randy. He never deserved you, never treated you how he should have. Eddie will.”

I nod slowly, but the fear still lingers like a storm cloud on the edge of my sunny little morning. Not doubt in him, not really. Just in life. Timing. The world always seems to spin a little too fast when you want something to stay still.

A pause stretches between us, comfortable but thoughtful. Then Sam clears her throat and leans back.

“Alright,” she says, her voice lighter. “Enough about your sexy country star boyfriend who apparently makes you glow like a damn firefly. Can we talk about how Joey keeps trying to flush his socks down the toilet again?”

I laugh, the tension breaking like glass. “Oh no. Not the sock phase again.”

“Oh yes.” She groans. “I swear, he’s determined to give our plumbing an aneurysm.”

“How’s he doing?” I ask more softly now. “Really.”

Sam’s eyes flicker, the shine behind them dipping just slightly. “He’s… okay. He’s tired. He keeps asking when he can stop going to the doctor. And… he misses you. He asked about your voice again.”

My chest squeezes. “God, Sam. I’m so sorry I haven’t been by.”

“Don’t apologize. I know things have been—complicated. But… he really does miss you. He asks for your lullabies.”

My throat tightens. “Tell him I’ll come by this weekend. I’ll sing the whole damn playlist if he wants.”

She smiles at that. “He’d love that.”

The air between us settles again, a mix of laughter, ache, and quiet understanding. This is why I love Sam. We can go from orgasms and music stars to real-life and kidney transplants without missing a beat.

We sit there a while longer, sipping our drinks, catching up on everything and nothing.

And even with the ache in my chest for Joey and the uncertainty of what the next few months might bring with Eddie, right here in this café—with Sam’s laughter and the clink of spoons and the sunlight dancing through steam—I feel grounded.

Not everything has to be figured out right now.

Some things, you just feel.