Caleb clears his throat. “And the job? The kitchen?”
“That was always the hook,” I say. “He talked about the industry like it was still mine. Like he hadn’t already let it burn me alive.”
Silence settles again.
Then Boone says, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Silas steps closer. “You followed information you were given in good faith.”
Caleb nods. “That doesn’t make this your fault.”
“I wasn’t trying to go back,” I say quietly. “I swear. I just… wanted to know.”
Boone softens. “That’s allowed.”
By the time I finish, my throat feels scraped raw. My chest feels hollowed out.
No one says anything.
Then Boone speaks. “He won’t come near you again.”
I want to believe that. I really do.
“But what if he does?” I ask. “What if he decides this town is small enough to make a point?”
Silas straightens. “Then we make it very clear that it isn’t.”
Caleb leans forward. “There are legal ways to make sure of that.”
My stomach tightens instantly. “I’m not?—”
“I know,” he says calmly. “Just hear us out.”
Boone is the first to speak. “There are options.”
I tense immediately, but he doesn’t push.
“Tools,” he adds.
Caleb nods. “Documentation, for one. Writing down what happened while it’s fresh.”
Silas shifts his weight. “A report doesn’t mean charges. It means a record.”
I stare at the glass in my hands. “And a restraining order?”
Boone inclines his head. “If you want it.”
That qualifier matters.
I swallow. “I don’t want to be dramatic.”
Silas lets out a quiet, humorless breath. “You’re not.”
“I don’t want this to turn into a whole thing,” I say. “I don’t want people looking at me like I invited it.”
Caleb is calm. “Wanting distance from someone who scared you isn’t a spectacle.”
“And you’re not weak for needing backup,” Silas adds. “You shouldn’t have to be quiet to be safe.”
