Sabrina stood at the counter, her hips leaning against the edge, watching the coffeemaker drip like it held state secrets she needed to decode.Her sandy-blonde hair was twisted up in a loose knot that looked like it had been done by feel rather than a mirror, a few strands escaping to curl against the nape of her neck.She wore the Copper Moon Cup T-shirt from years past he'd found in his drawer, and offered her the night before, the faded logo stretched softly across her shoulders, and leggings that stopped above her ankles, leaving her feet bare on his worn wood floor.
One hand wrapped around a mug, fingers curled into the warmth even though it was probably still empty.The other braced against the counter, her weight settling back as if she needed the support to stay upright.
Her shoulders eased a fraction when he stepped into the doorway.She'd heard him coming.Good.He liked that she was aware enough to track movement in an unfamiliar space, that her instincts were working even through the exhaustion.
"Morning," he said, keeping his voice low and easy.
She glanced over, eyes tired but clearer than yesterday.The rawness had faded to something more settled, still fragile but no longer breaking apart."Hey.I hope it's okay that I invaded your kitchen."
"It's your kitchen too, for now."He meant it.Crossed to the counter and nodded toward the coffeemaker."You found the good stuff."
"Emergency triage."She tilted the mug slightly, showing him the empty interior waiting to be filled."That bag was labeled.The others looked like a science experiment gone wrong."
"That tracks."He stepped closer, reached past her for another mug from the cabinet.The door stuck halfway open, refusing to swing the rest of the way, so he had to bump it with his wrist to get it to cooperate.The hinge protested with a soft squeak.Add that to the list of things this house needed.
Her gaze followed the motion, caught on the stubborn door."Does that drive you a little crazy?"
"It gives me something to shove around."He pulled the mug free and let the door swing shut on its own crooked arc."I can live with it."
"You shouldn't have to."A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth, the first real lightness he'd seen from her since the hospital."You let me stay here.The least your cabinets could do is cooperate."
"I only just bought this place," he said."The cabinets and I are still negotiating terms."
That earned him a small curve of her mouth.Not quite the full, unguarded smile she'd given him out in the field yesterday, standing in the ruins of her inn with her face turned toward the salt breeze, but close.Close enough that something in his chest loosened.
"How long have you been here?"she asked.
"Just about a month."He poured coffee into his mug, then topped off hers without asking."Closed on it right after Hank and Bree's wedding.Before that, I was at the Copper Moon Hotel and two separate short-term rentals out of town."
"The hotel?"Her eyebrows lifted slightly."That must have been expensive."
"Staff discount.Hank knows the owner, pulled some strings.It worked fine for a while.But I wanted something that was mine."He shrugged, took a sip of coffee that was still a little too hot, and let it burn down his throat."Something that didn't roll away every time the season changed."
She looked around the kitchen, taking in the mismatched stools at the counter, the toolbox shoved into the corner by the back door, the half-unpacked boxes stacked against the wall beneath the window.Morning light caught the dust motes floating in the air, making them look like tiny sparks suspended in amber.
"It feels like you," she said.
He raised an eyebrow."Unfinished?"
"Capable."The word came out before she seemed to expect it, and color crept up her neck."I mean, it feels like you could make it anything you want.You just haven't slowed down long enough to decide what that is."
He took another sip of coffee, using the motion to cover the way her words landed square in his chest.She saw too much.Or maybe she just saw clearly, and he wasn't used to being seen.
"Part-time shifts at the station," he said."Night calls when they come in.The shop's been busy.Even with the Cup finished, there are races across the country that still need prep work.Season doesn't really end; it just shifts gears.Unpacking boxes keeps losing the fight."
"And then you added 'take in a displaced innkeeper' to the list," she said softly, staring down at her coffee like the dark surface held answers she needed.
"That one jumped the line."
Her throat moved as she swallowed.For a moment, neither of them spoke.The coffeemaker finished its cycle with a final satisfied gurgle, and somewhere outside a bird started up, its song carrying through the window he'd cracked open before bed last night.
"I needed to do something," she said finally."Something that wasn't sitting on your couch, staring at the wall, thinking about ashes.So I figured I could at least make coffee."Her chin lifted slightly, a stubborn set to her jaw that he was starting to recognize."I can cook too.Eventually.Once I know what you've got and what you need."
He glanced at the fridge, already knowing its contents weren't impressive.Eggs, probably.The last of a pack of bacon he'd bought at the start of the week.A pepper that was on the edge of its useful life.Bread in the freezer that might survive toasting if he was careful.
"Don't judge the groceries," he said.
"I won't."She set her mug down and squared her shoulders like she was preparing for battle."I've fed grown adults out of half-empty pantry shelves before.It's practically my specialty."She met his eyes."Are you hungry?"
