At the Library
The morning was crisp, the sunlight soft. People on Main Street called hello as we passed.
Normal. Safe. Ordinary.
Except nothing felt ordinary with Wolf walking beside me—tall, steady, watchful. His hand brushed mine once, barely a touch, but enough to send a warm ripple through me.
I unlocked the library door, flipped on the lights, and exhaled at the familiar scent of books and lemon cleaner.
Home.
But Wolf’s posture stayed tense.
He did a sweep of the building while I set my bag down.
When he returned, he stood at the front desk.
“All clear,” he said. But his eyes still scanned the windows. “For now.”
“For now,” I repeated quietly.
He watched me a moment more, then softened. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Actually… yes. More than I expected.”
“Good.”
He came around the counter, stopping right in front of me.
Too close.
Perfectly close.
“I meant what I said last night,” he murmured. “I’m not letting anything happen to you.”
I swallowed. “I know.”
His thumb brushed my knuckles. A small touch.
A huge reaction.
Then the door chimed.
Agnes, June, and Mabel bustled in carrying muffins, casseroles, and enough gossip to start a wildfire.
Agnes took one look at Wolf and grinned. “Well, look who didn’t go home last night.”
Havoc’s voice floated past the window: “Trigger, I swear to God, if you say one word—”
Trigger’s voice followed: “I’M NOT SAYING ANYTHING! I’M JUST OBSERVING HISTORY!”
Wolf sighed deeply.
I laughed.
And for the first time since all of this began…
…it felt like maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t facing this nightmare alone.
