"We're fine," I say, but she's already moving toward the door, umbrella in hand.
The silence stretches after she leaves. Brooks shifts his weight, hand nearing the door handle. Then he stops.
The air between us thickens.
"I'll come back tomorrow." Not a question. A statement. "To check the wiring." His jaw tightens. "Make sure you're safe."
He says the wordsafelike it's a promise, like he's already decided I'm his responsibility. Heat pools low in my belly. I nod because words feel impossible.
He steps away like he's forcing himself to move. At the door, he pauses with his hand on the handle and looks back at me one more time. Then he's gone, the door swinging shut behind him. I hear his truck start over the rain, the engine idling for a long moment before he finally drives away.
I lean into the glass, watching his taillights through the rain. The storm rages outside, thunder rolling across the mountains, but I feel warm all the way through.
The bookmarks are still scattered across the floor. I crouch down and gather them, stacking them in neat piles on the table. My hands are steadier now.
On the counter, his business card sits where he left it. Brooks Maddox, Fire & Rescue, Ridgeway AFB. His handwriting on the back:Call if anything else sparks.
I pick it up. The cardstock is slightly bent at one corner as though he's carried it in his jacket for a while. Old Elorie would've thrown it away; too much hope is dangerous. Too much wanting leads to hurt.
I tuck it into my jeans pocket instead.
Through the window, the storm still rages, but the sound doesn't make my hands shake anymore. The lights stay steady. The outlet doesn't spark.
Tomorrow I'll make his coffee the way Elijah orders it when he’s on a coffee run: black, two sugars, and have it ready when he comes back.
Because he'll come back. I don't know how I know, but I do. I feel it the same way I felt the electricity when our hands touched. The same way I felt safe when he stood between me and the sparking outlet.
This time, I'm not running.
I'm staying. I'm choosing to hope. I'm keeping his card in my pocket and his promise in my chest and the memory of his eyes on mine like an anchor.
The storm can rage all it wants.
In here, something new is beginning.
Chapter two
Brooks
Idon't go home after my shift ends.
Instead, I'm in my truck outside the training facility with the engine idling, rain drumming against the roof. Elijah's voice rattles around in my head from this morning, something about Elorie's coffee being the best in Pine Valley, how she always remembers everyone's order.
That's not why I'm thinking about going back.
Elorie Harper. Her name sits in my chest like something I'm not supposed to touch. She's soft in all the ways I've learned to avoid. Curves that would fit against me perfectly. Eyes that went wide when that outlet sparked, fear flashing across her face before she tried to hide it. I noticed everything. The tremble in her hands when she pointed toward the breaker box. The way she hummed under her breath when thunder hit, trying to soothe herself. The flush that crept up her neck when our eyes met, turning her skin warm and pink.
The way her hand felt under mine when I pushed the business card across the counter.
That moment loops in my head on repeat. How small her hand looked next to mine. Our fingers brushing. The sparks that radiated under my skin. How she pulled back but not immediately, as though she felt it too and needed an extra second to process.
I've replayed that half-second of contact a hundred times since then.
The vanilla scent that surrounded her. The catch in her breathing when I said she shouldn't be alone in the dark. The way she looked at me like I was safe when I'm anything but.
I start the truck and turn toward Pine Valley. Checking the wiring, making sure the outlet’s truly dead, that there's no risk of another spark. Responsible. Professional.
I'm a terrible liar. Even to myself.
