Page 33 of Try Line Hearts
Kaine’s gaze dipped to Byrne’s pocket—subtle, a flicker. “You still got it?”
Byrne blinked. “What.”
“The chocolate.”
Byrne’s fingers pressed unconsciously against the warm shape. “Yes.”
Kaine nodded like that mattered. Like it meant something.
“Coach’ll have a stroke if we miss dinner,” Byrne said, voice rough.
Kaine’s mouth curved. “Wouldn’t want that on my conscience.”
They stood and headed for the tram. When their shoulders brushed in the crowd, Kaine didn’t flinch away.
Neither did Byrne.
That night, Byrne lay in the dark of their shared room, listening to Kaine settle under his duvet. No pub. No lads. No performance. Just two men breathing in the same four walls.
His phone buzzed on the bedside table.
Maeve: Saw Twitter. You okay?
Of course she had. Maeve always knew when his life trembled.
He stared at the screen, then typed:
Bit of a wobble. Sorted now.
A beat.
Maeve: You’re not alone in your own life, Luke. Call tomorrow if you need to breathe at someone who isn’t him.
Byrne swallowed hard.
His hand drifted to his coat on the chair. He fished the chocolate from the pocket and held it in the dark. Purple wrapper. Warmth long gone. Still—his palm remembered where it had been.
“Kaine,” Byrne said into the quiet before he could stop himself.
A beat. Then Kaine’s voice, low and sleepy: “Yeah, captain?”
“Thank you.” The words scraped out of him. “For today.”
Sheets shifted. He could almost picture Kaine staring at the ceiling.
“You’re welcome,” Kaine said quietly. “Any time.”
Byrne swallowed.
He almost added more. Almost cracked the shell. Almost said something that would change the shape of everything.
Instead, he rolled onto his side, facing the wall, heart loud in his ears.
Behind him, Kaine exhaled—a thread of relief in it Byrne couldn’t quite parse.
Neither of them said another word.
But the space between their beds felt different now.
