1
Saint
Iwas wiping down the bar when the door opened.
I didn’t look up right away.
The Last Stand Tavern was quiet this early—just the low hum of the refrigerator behind the counter, the smell of fresh coffee drifting from the kitchen, and the familiar creak of old wood settling into the morning.
It was the kind of quiet I liked.
Predictable.
Safe.
Then I felt it.
That strange, unmistakable awareness that someone important had just walked into my life again.
The air shifted.
My instincts sharpened.
I looked up…
and everything in me went still.
Laney.
The woman I’d spent one unforgettable night with a year ago stood just inside the door.
She looked thinner. Paler.
And she was holding a baby.
Our eyes locked.
For a second, neither of us moved.
The room seemed to tilt around us, the quiet stretching tight like a wire.
Then she took a step forward.
That’s when I saw her hands were shaking.
“Laney…” I set the rag down slowly, my pulse suddenly pounding in my ears. “I’ve tried to find you.”
She didn’t answer.
She crossed the room in quick, uneven steps, like she was holding herself together by sheer will.
When she stopped in front of me, I could see the fear in her eyes.
Raw.
Real.
“Saint,” she said, her voice breaking. “This is Emmy.”
