The second time Mira walked into Jace's repair shop, it wasn't because something was broken.
At least, not technically.
She told herself it was about a slow phone. Or maybe checking if he had a refurbished keyboard she could use. That was plausible enough. But as she stood outside the shop again, staring at the flickering "OPEN" sign, she knew she was lying to herself.
She just wanted to see him.
And that thought annoyed her.
Because Mira didn't chase people. She didn't do mystery. She didn't even date. Not seriously. Not since Theo, and that ended with a shattered wine glass and her deleting an entire playlist labeled Us.
Still, she walked in.
The bell over the door chimed, sharp and bright.
Jace looked up from behind the counter, mid-sip of something that smelled like burnt espresso. His hair was just as unkempt, his expression unreadable—but his eyes flicked with a flash of something when he saw her.
Surprise, maybe. Amusement?
"Back so soon?" he asked, voice low and dry.
Mira lifted her phone like a shield. "It's running slow. Might be nothing. Figured I'd check."
He held out a hand. She passed it over, avoiding his fingers. They didn't touch, but her skin still prickled like they had.
Jace turned the phone over. "This model's ancient."
"Like from 2014. I'm nostalgic."
"You're stubborn."
"Same thing."
His lips twitched at that, just for a second. "I'll run a quick diagnostic. Sit if you want."
Mira moved to the cracked leather stool near the counter, glancing at the shelves around her. A vintage Game Boy sat between two tangled phone chargers. A cracked iPad leaned against a dusty camera lens. The shop felt like a digital graveyard—but strangely alive.
Jace worked in silence, fingers moving over the screen, eyes focused. Mira watched him, pretending not to.
He was precise. Not rushed. Like fixing something was his native language.
"I didn't expect you'd still be here," she said after a minute.
Jace looked up, brow raised. "Where else would I be?"
"Some people don't stick to one place."
"I'm not some people."
"That's what I'm starting to notice."
He didn't smile, but something flickered in his eyes again.
"There's no malware," he said, tapping the screen. "Just clogged memory. You've got, like, six thousand photos."
"Most are of my cat."
"That explains everything."
She rolled her eyes. "So what's the fix?"
"Delete some memories."
"I don't delete memories," she said quietly. "I store them. Even the stupid ones."
Jace looked at her for a long second. "Then upgrade your storage."
---
She stayed longer than necessary.
He told her about some of the weirder repairs he'd done—once someone brought in a phone they'd dropped in a bowl of ramen. Another time, a toaster.
"Was the toaster smart?" she asked.
"No. Just dumb and full of crumbs."
She laughed—really laughed—and was surprised by how easy it felt.
When she finally stood to leave, her phone newly boosted, Jace handed it back without looking up.
"Try not to come back in a week."
"What if I want to?"
He paused, then looked at her. "Then bring better excuses."
Their eyes held for just a second longer than they should have.
---
Back in her apartment, Mira lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
There was something about Jace. Not just the gruff attitude or the fixer energy. He felt... rooted. Like he wasn't playing a game. Like if you asked him a question, he'd answer it straight—even if it hurt.
That was rare.
And dangerous.
Because Mira wasn't looking for trouble.
But now, trouble had a name.
And she kind of wanted to know what his middle name was, too.