"Bears love deep," Freya said quietly. "When they choose someone, they choose them completely. It's not casual for them. It's not temporary." She glanced up, her expression serious now. "That's not a bad thing, but it's not a small thing either. If Corin is paying attention to you the way you're describing, you should know what that might mean."
"You're wrong."
"Maybe." Freya shrugged. "Or maybe you're just not ready to see it yet."
Chloe didn't answer. Her thoughts were tangled, pulling her in directions she wasn't prepared to go.
Corin couldn't be interested in her. They'd spent time together, yes. They'd grown closer through the work, shared information about the land sickness, developed something that felt almost like friendship. But that was all it was. All it could be.
He probably felt guilty for the way he'd questioned her. He probably pitied her, the outsider with the strange blood and the whispers following her everywhere she went. That's why he was being attentive. That's why he was watching her, bringing her coffee, making sure she was comfortable.
Pity. Guilt. Nothing more.
Because if it was more, if Freya was right about any of it, then Chloe was in serious trouble. She'd spent too long convincing herself that Corin Vane was out of her reach. If she let herself believe something else, if she let herself hope, she'd only end up hurt when she was proven wrong. She'd been there before. She knew how that story ended.
"I should finish with the lavender," she said, standing abruptly.
Freya nodded. "Take your time. There's no rush."
Chloe gathered the dried bundle and headed for the drying rack, her hands steadier than her thoughts. She hung the lavender with careful precision, counting each stem, focusing on the simple repetitive motion.
She wasn't going to think about Corin. Wasn't going to read meaning into kindness or hope into attention.
They were working together to solve a problem. That was all.
14
CORIN
His phone buzzed at seven in the morning.
Corin was already in the orchard, checking the beds nearest the barn, when Chloe's name lit up his screen. He felt goosebumps rise at the sight.
"Morning."
"Hi." Her voice was distant, careful. "I wanted to let you know I won't be coming up today."
The lift crashed back down. "Everything okay?"
"The sickness is spreading. It's not just the starts anymore. The early buds on Freya's established plants are showing damage now. We need to check everything in the shop and the greenhouse, see how far it's gone."
"I can help."
"That's okay. Freya and I have it handled." A pause. "I just didn't want you waiting for me."
There was something in her tone. Something guarded that hadn't been there a couple days ago, before he'd grabbed her wrist and ruined everything with his panicked questions.
"Chloe."
"I really should go. Freya's already pulling inventory."
"Are you avoiding me?"
The silence stretched long enough that he had his answer before she spoke.
"No," she said finally. "I'm just busy."
She was lying. He could hear it in the careful way she formed the words, the distance she was putting between them with every syllable. He'd done this. His clumsy attempts to hide the mate bond, the interrogation about druids, the way he'd pulled back when every instinct screamed at him to pull her closer.
