“Food,” he said. “You forgot.”
I laughed softly. “You sound like Trigger.”
He raised a brow. “I’m learning from the best.”
We sat at the small table near the window —mytable now — watching Eagle River move past like it always had.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I am,” I said honestly. “I feel… like myself again. I’ll start back at the library tomorrow.”
He nodded slowly. “I knew that was coming.”
“And you?” I asked.
He stared out the window. “I don’t know how to be near you without bracing for impact.”
I reached across the table and covered his hand with mine.
“You don’t have to tense every second,” I said. “Just stay.”
He turned his hand over, threading his fingers through mine.
“I can do stay,” he said quietly.
Outside, the tavern lights glowed warm against the cold.
Inside, life moved forward.
And for the first time in a long time, my routine didn’t feel fragile.
It felt reclaimed.
42
Nora
The tavern closed quietly.
No drama.
No announcements.
Just chairs turned upside down, lights dimmed low, and the soft hush of a place settling back into itself.
Trigger tapped the register shut. “Same time tomorrow.”
Havoc grabbed his jacket. “I’m calling this a win.”
Saint stretched, yawning. “First normal day I’ve had in months.”
Wolf locked the door last.
Always last.
When we finally climbed the stairs together, the sound of the tavern faded behind us—laughter ghosting the walls, warmth lingering in the air.
I felt tired.
