I blinked. “Wait—you talk about that? On your show?”
She arched an eyebrow at me, like it should’ve been obvious. “Yeah. Not every episode, but…it comes up. I’ve got a whole arc about grief folklore and rural mythologies—Shadow Painter was the opener. Pretty sure it traumatized my sound editor.”
I shook my head slowly, trying to reconcile the woman next to me—the one who’d just told me something raw and personal with all the emotion stripped to the bone—with the version of her broadcasting that story to thousands of strangers. Maybe more.
“Still don’t strike me as someone who would do that,” I said.
She gave a dry laugh. “What, you thought I’d be more mysterious?”
“No,” I said, a little too fast. “I just—I don’t know. You seem so…closed off. Careful.”
“Yeah, well,” she said, brushing a pine needle off her jeans. “It’s easier when I’m not looking anyone in the eye. Podcasting’s like shouting into the void—you can say anything when the silence doesn’t talk back.”
That made sense.
“Still,” I said. “I figured I’d have to earn that story.”
“You kinda did,” she said, glancing over at me. “You didn’t make fun of it. Or me.”
“I’d never.”
She shrugged again. “Yeah, well. You’d be surprised how many people do.”
I followed her gaze as it drifted through the trees, out toward the waterfall just beginning to peek through the thinned-out pines. She looked like she belonged here, somehow—like she’d been dropped into the wrong life for too long and her body still didn’t know how to relax.
“I’m glad you told me,” I said. “Even if it’s public domain.”
She smirked. “You’re not gonna go home and listen now, are you?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I wasn’t gonna admit it, but I’ve never actually heard your podcast.”
Noelle blinked at me, then burst out laughing—real, bright, surprised laughter that startled a couple of birds from the brush.
“God,” she said. “That might be the most refreshing thing I’ve heard all week.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes!” she said. “I thought for sure Delilah gave you the rundown. Or that you Googled me the second I wasn’t looking.”
“Nah. I figured if you wanted me to know something, you’d tell me.”
She went quiet again, chewing on that, her eyes turning thoughtful. After a beat, she said, “I might.”
Milo came bounding back then, paws muddy and tongue lolling, like he couldn’t imagine a better day. Noelle reached out and rubbed his head with both hands, laughing softly when he licked her wrist and then flopped down at her feet. I watched the two of them for a beat longer than I meant to—her fingers in his fur, his dumb tongue hanging out in pure bliss—and then cleared my throat.
“You hungry?” I asked. “Figured we could grab dinner somewhere before it gets too crowded again.”
Noelle looked up at me, lips parted like she might say yes right away. But then she hesitated. Bit the inside of her cheek.
“I’m kinda…” She trailed off, searching for the words. “I’m all peopled out, y’know?”
I nodded, already backing off, but she shook her headquickly.
“No—I mean, I don’t want to go back to Delilah’s either. Just…what if we picked something up instead? Ate it somewhere quiet?”
She stood, brushing the dirt from her knees, and met my gaze full on this time. Open. Steady.
“Like maybe…your place?”
