I unpack a few things, rinse my face, and force myself not to curl up and sleep for a week. If I do that, I’ll never pull myself back up again. Better to move. Explore. Pretend I’m a person with a plan.
So I head out.
I wander past Granger’s Goods, Coyote Cup, and a florist's stand with buckets of wildflowers. A teenage girl with combatboots and a tarot deck eyes me like she knows all my secrets. I avert my gaze. Absolutely not ready for that energy yet.
My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten since the crackers I inhaled on the bus. I follow the sound of distant laughter and music until a weathered sign comes into view.
THE HOLLOW
Bar • Grill • Live Music
Perfect.
Inside, it’s warm and dim. A handful of locals sit in booths, and despite the quiet, the place feels lived in. Safe.
Behind the bar stands a man with a jawline sharp enough to slice lemons and a disinterested expression that tells me he’s seen absolutely everything.
“New face,” he says, polishing a glass. “Or tourist?”
“New,” I admit, landing on a barstool. “But hopefully not too obviously.”
He snorts. “Everyone’s obvious. What’ll it be?”
I scan the chalkboard menu. “Burger, fries, and a beer.”
“Good choice.” He slides me a water. “Name’s Arlo.”
“Delaney.”
He nods once and goes to put in the order. While he works, I let myself melt into the bar. It feels good to sit. To breathe. To not think about… everything.
Then someone sits in the stool beside me, and everything shifts.
“Well, hello there.”
His voice is warm, lazy, and unmistakably flirtatious. I turn and blink in shock.
If sunshine and trouble had a baby, it would be this man. Golden blond hair that looks artfully tousled, green eyes full of mischief, and a grin that could start fires. He’s the kind of beautiful that makes you suspicious.
“I haven’t seen you around,” he continues, leaning in like we’re already halfway into a conversation. “And trust me, sweetheart, I would’ve remembered.”
I choke slightly on my water. “I… just got into town.”
“Welcome, then.” He clinks his beer against my glass. “To Coyote Glen.”
His shirt is half unbuttoned, revealing tanned skin and just enough chest to be illegal. His jeans fit like he posed for a billboard. His entire vibe screams charismatic madness.
I don’t need this kind of distraction.
My body disagrees.
Arlo slides the plate in front of me. “Burger and fries for Delaney.” He shoots the man beside me a look. “Don’t scare her off, Silas. We need the business.”
Silas.
Great. Even his name sounds like a problem.
“Me?” Silas places a hand on his chest. “I’m delightful.”
