“You’d be surprised,” I shot back, hugging the cooling cocoa to my chest. I hesitated, then gestured inside. “Come in.”
Chapter 12
Hunter
We atecroissants as we warmed the cocoa and sat peacefully in one of the sofas by the lantern in the middle of his store. Snow collected on the windows, and wind whipped around the building. My eyes kept drifting from the lines on the page to the storm outside, the muffled swirl of white helping the noise in my head—worries about leaving, about tenure, about everything I was trying to prove.
Prove to whom? Myself? To my ex, about whom I don’t give a shit? To the school that overlooked me. How many days did I have left until I sold the coffee shop? I couldn’t recall right now, hadn’t written a number down in forever… didn’t even want to. Counting the days felt like lying when my chest tightened at the thought of leaving Wes.
But did selling my place mean I was leaving Wes?
That wasn’t right. Could I stay here? I could…
Fuck I don’t know.
In the quiet glow of the lantern, cocoa warming my hands, Wes was pressed to my side, and I felt a rare calm, as if maybe the storm could stay outside for a while. If I moved away, I could always come back and share this with Wesley. If he wanted me to. If he didn’t meet someone else who loved this town as much as he did.
Who would that be?
For the first time, I caught myself thinking—what if I didn’t sell? What if I found someone to run the place while I taught? A manager. Someone steady. Molly was good—would BBs kill me if I poached her? Would she even be interested?
I didn’t want to think about that.
“You’ve been on the same page for ten minutes now,” Wesley teased and nudged me.
“I’m digesting his premise,” I lied.
“So, what is this professor saying then?” he asked.
“I’m only on chapter two,” I admitted.
“Yeah, but you have to have a feel for where it’s going!?” he pressed, eyes bright with interest.
I sighed, smiled a little. “He’s arguing that the Union Army’s supply chain in 1863 was basically one long disaster, bogged down by politics and poor communication. He’s picking apart every decision likeit was a chessboard gone wrong. Interesting, but very dry.”
Wesley grinned. “And you’re into that?”
“Of course I am,” I said, then tilted my head. “What about you? What are you reading?”
His expression lit up. “Book one in theShadowveil Chronicles.Ashes of the Forgotten.”
“Sounds dramatic,” I teased.
“It is! It’s a young adult book, and the author is coming here at Christmas for a signing, well, not here, the town hall, but The Story Lantern is hosting it, and I’m re-reading the whole series so far, so I don’t look like an idiot when Mr. Sexy gets here.”
I frowned. “Mr. Sexy?”
Wesley half-closed the book and showed me the back, revealing a picture of a gorgeous, dark-blond guy on the cover. It was fair to say that yes, he was definitely a sexy man, but hewasn’tWesley. He wasn’t cute like Wesley with his dark, wavy hair, and flamboyantly gorgeous; in fact, I hoped he had all the looks but was as boring as hell. Says the professor, reading about history when I could be snuggling the cutie at my side.
“Sexy, huh?” I said, trying not to sound jealous.
“Not as sexy as the professor from next door,” Wes smiled. “Anyway, it’s about Xander, a half-witch, and Yvaine, a necromancer’s daughter. There’s this riftbetween worlds, and all the magic is bleeding out of theirs. Lots of betrayal, doomed love, and monsters that lurk under your bed.” He gestured excitedly with his cup. “I adore it.”
I was kind of stuck on the whole sexy-professor-from-next-door bit, but I chuckled, pulling him close. “So, while I drown in supply lines, you’re saving the world with witches.”
“Exactly,” he said with mock solemnity. “Both equally important.”
I laughed, and he nestled into my side, the storm raging outside while we lost ourselves in books and cocoa.
