She sets her glass down and gives me a small smirk. “She should know by now you don’t rattle easily.”
A grunt slips out of me again, but this time the corner of my mouth lifts. Celeste has a way of cutting through irritation like it is smoke. She always has, even when she doesn’t realize she is doing it.
She steps closer, her fingers brushing mine on the counter. The touch is light but deliberate, and it settles something in me. I slide my hands to her waist and lift her onto the counter. She lets me, but there is a tightness in her shoulders, a small flinch she tries to smooth away. It is quick, but I feel it.
I move between her legs, hands slowly gliding up the outside of her thighs. Her skin is warm from the shower, her scent clean and familiar. I lower my head to her neck, breathing her in. She smells like soap and home.
For a moment, she leans into me. Her breath catches, and her fingers curl in the fabric of my shirt.
Then she slightly tenses, enough to make me lean back. Her hand presses gently to my chest, easing me back with a breath that sounds too fast.
“Come on,” she says, a little breathless. “Let’s go into town, maybe walk around, and see what else Shadow Grove is hiding. I loved walking through Main Street yesterday.” There issomething in her voice that feels like a pivot. Not rejection but more like a shift toward safer ground.
I nod and step back, giving her the space she does not ask for but clearly needs. She hops off the counter with a small, careful movement, smoothing her top like she is trying to settle her own nerves.
Before I know it, the trees are sliding past the windows in long green strokes, and the early evening breeze slips through the cracked glass of my SUV. The air smells like pine and the faint sweetness of Celeste’s shampoo. She sits curled in the passenger seat with her legs tucked under her, the way she always does when she wants to feel small but safe. Her gaze stays stuck on the window, but now and then she glances at me.
I rest one hand on the wheel and leave the other open on the console between us for her to hold if she wants to.
She doesn’t take it.
Her phone buzzes against her thigh. She reaches for it, then hesitates, thumb hovering, then sighs and answers. “Hey, Rowe.” She taps the speaker icon on her phone.
I keep my eyes on the road, but my ears prick up.
“I saw your text last night. I’m just checking in,” Rowan’s voice rumbles through the car, warm and steady. “How’s Shadow Grove treating you? You and the big guy settled in okay?”
Celeste lets out a soft chuckle, and the sound eases something tight in my chest. “We’re fine. Things are quiet here. Normal, even. I’ve been working with Lucian and Orion’s girlfriend, Morgan, on self-defense. I’ve been learning some moves.”
There’s pride in her voice, but there’s something else too. A tremor under the words. A need to sound stronger than she feels. I hear it because I’ve felt it.
“Good,” Rowan says firmly. “That’s exactly what I like to hear. Thank him for me. As you know, Link’s been blowing up our phones, so we know he’s okay. I already spoke with Shiloh; she made it safely back to her family in Miami, and she’s doing well. I just left Korbyn at the house, so I know she’s okay. She has been pacing the house like a caged bird, but cancelling the tour had more blowback than I ever imagined, and we haven’t been able to get her stuff yet.”
I can hear the way Celeste’s smile softens when she speaks. “Our Little Crow will be okay. She’s stronger than we give her credit for.”
Rowan makes a low, noncommittal sound. “I fuckin’ hope so. I’ll check in later. Please keep your head down, all right?”
“I pinky promise, Rowe.” She taps the screen to end the call and sets the phone in her lap. Her nails drum lightly against the case, a restless rhythm she probably doesn’t realize she’s doing.
We turn onto Main Street just as the sun dips behind the treeline. The storefronts glow warm in the last light of the day, and the street lamps flicker on one by one. Then something else catches my eye.
Strings of tiny lights stretch across the street, crisscrossing from building to building. Warm white. Soft. Almost like stars caught in a net. I’ve driven this road a hundred times and never noticed them. Maybe they only come alive at dusk. Or maybe I never looked up before.
Celeste leans forward in her seat, her breath fogging the glass for a moment. “Oh,” she whispers, almost to herself. “That’s… pretty.”
Pretty isn’t the word I’d use. Not with the way the lights catch in her hair. Not with the way she looks at this town like it might actually hold something good for her.
But I keep that to myself.
I pull into a spot along the curb, the engine ticking as it cools. The lights above us sway gently in the evening breeze, and the whole street feels like it’s exhaling.
* * *
I should’ve said something about her new blonde hair. Kelsey kept fishing for compliments at the beginning of the telehealth visit, with her easy smiles and baited pauses; when I let the moment slide, she would get visibly upset. She turned harder on my form, and the session lost its easy warmth.
“Fix your form,” she scolds. “Lucian, you’re compensating again.”
I bite back a sigh as I fight the urge to roll my eyes for what feels like the hundredth time. “I am not.”
