Across the street, standing in the doorway of the Timberline Library, wearing a soft gray cardigan and clutching a stack of books to her chest like armor. Brown hair pulled into a loose knot. Eyes wide, and the greenest green I’ve seen, she looked like she’d stumbled into a wildlife documentary and realized she was looking at a pack of wolves.
Nora Bennett.
The way she studied us—like she wanted to run but also couldn’t look away—hit something in my chest I didn’t know still worked.
Trigger followed my line of sight. “Well, damn. That’s a cute librarian.”
“Don’t,” I growled.
“Didn’t say anything,” he said, smirking.
But I didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Her gaze slid to me—quiet, curious, a little startled.
A flicker of something passed between us.
Recognition?
Interest?
A warning?
Hell if I knew.
But I knew this:
The moment her eyes met mine, I wasn’t thinking about broken missions or burned-out soldiers or the bar we had to somehow resurrect.
I was thinking about her. I already knew her name. I made it my business to learn something about this town.
Nora.
The girl in the doorway who looked like soft quiet in a world full of noise.
She blinked, startled, then retreated inside the library like she’d been caught staring.
Trigger nudged me. “Should we go say hi?”
“No,” I said too fast.
He grinned. “Wolf’s growling again.”
But I couldn’t help it.
I watched the door she disappeared behind, and something deep in my chest tightened.
I wasn’t here for friends.
I wasn’t here for attachments.
And I sure as hell wasn’t here for a woman who looked like she belonged in the sun, not standing anywhere near a man like me.
But for the first time since I left the Army, I felt… awake.
And that scared me more than anything.
