Her mouth quirks. Almost a smile. “Fair.”
I move to the fire, add another log, then adjust the damper. Heat pours off the stove in waves.
“You said you’re new,” I say. “Three months. Where are you from?”
“Spokane.” She sets her bowl on the table, empty now. “I needed a change. Fresh start. Lush Hollow seemed… I don’t know. Real.”
“It’s real. Also small. And everyone knows everything.”
“I noticed.” She tucks a curl behind her ear. “But I like it. People here see each other. Not—” She stops. “Never mind.”
“Not just what?”
She hesitates. “Look past you. Like you’re furniture.”
The words land quietly but heavily. I know that feeling. “You volunteering to be seen?”
“I’d like to be.” Her gaze flicks to mine. “I’m tired of being useful but forgettable.”
There it is. The wound.
I should leave it alone. Not my business.
Instead, I say, “You drove up a mountain in a storm to deliver cookies. That’s not forgettable.”
Her face shifts. Surprise and then gratitude. She stares at her lap. “Doing my job.”
“Your job’s within the town limits. This is past that.”
“Mr. Wilde put you on the list. He must think you need checking on.”
“Eli meddles.”
“Sounds like he cares.”
I grunt. “Same thing.”
She laughs. The sound is soft and unexpected. “Well. You got me anyway.”
Yeah. I did.
The storm roars louder. A branch cracks somewhere outside, sharp as a gunshot. She flinches.
“Just a tree,” I say. “Happens.”
“How do you stay so calm?”
“Practice.”
“Military?”
I pause. Then nod once. “Yeah.”
“What branch?”
“Army. Special operations support.”
“That sounds…intense.”
