Same.
I squeaked.
Actually squeaked.
And bolted out the door.
Behind me, Trigger’s laugh exploded.
Wolf’s deep voice cut through it. “Shut up.”
My heart pounded all the way back to the library.
And even long after the door shut behind me, I could still feel his touch.
3
Wolf
The Last Stand Tavern smelled like old beer, stale smoke, and bad decisions.
“Home sweet home,” Trigger muttered, sweeping a busted barstool leg into a pile of debris. “Think we can charge people extra for the ‘authentic historic funk’?”
“Think we can charge you extra if you don’t shut up?” Havoc grumbled from behind the bar, where he was wrestling with a stuck cabinet door like it owed him money.
Saint laughed as he rolled up another trash bag. “You two are a ray of sunshine.”
I stood in the middle of the tavern with my hands on my hips, trying to see beyond the cracked wood and peeling wallpaper to whatever the hell our old Colonel had imagined for us.
“You know,” Saint said, straightening, “if we tear down that half wall and open it up, we could add more tables. People will like that. Airy. Welcoming.”
Trigger snorted. “You sound like a Pinterest board.”
Saint shrugged. “I read things.”
I half listened, my pulse ticking louder than the hammer blows and scraping wood. The front doors were propped open. Sunlight spilled across the floor in bright rectangles, dust motes drifting lazily through the air.
From where I stood, I could see straight across the street.
To the Eagle River Library.
To her.
Nora unlocked the door with a practiced twist, balancing her bag and a cardboard drink tray. She wore jeans, boots, and another soft cardigan—green today, the exact shade of spring leaves. Her hair was up again, like she’d twisted it out of the way without thinking about how it made her neck look way too tempting.
She nudged the library door open with her hip and vanished inside.
Something in my chest eased that I hadn’t realized was tight. Like the town didn’t quite wake up until she showed up.
Behind me, a trash bag crinkled.
“Wolf’s watching the librarian again,” Trigger sing-songed.
I didn’t bother turning. “Wolf’s deciding who’s on bathroom duty for the next week. Want to keep talking?”
There was a beat of silence.
“I’ll… grab another trash bag,” Trigger muttered.
