"Quiet. I walked through the fair, bought some honey from a nice woman who told me her entire life story, and ended up here." She broke off a piece of lemon bar and popped it in her mouth. "I didn't see anyone suspicious, before you ask."
"I wasn't going to ask."
"You were thinking about it."
He couldn't argue with that. "Tom Cooper at the hardware store says he saw a guy matching the description you gave me. Hanging around the pier last week. Gray cap, sunglasses, just watching."
Her hand stilled on her teacup. "So I wasn't imagining it."
"Doesn't sound like it." He kept his voice steady, not wanting to alarm her more than necessary. "Could still be nothing. A tourist who likes to people-watch. But I asked Tom to let me know if he sees him again."
She nodded slowly, her gaze drifting to the window. Outside, Main Street was busy with the last of the craft fair crowd, families loading purchases into cars, vendors breaking down their booths.
"I keep telling myself I'm being paranoid," she said quietly. "Seven years in trauma, you learn to see threats everywhere. The brain rewires itself. Even when you're safe, part of you is always scanning for danger."
"That's not paranoia. That's training." He set down his coffee. "And training saves lives. Don't apologize for it."
She looked at him then, really looked, and he saw something shift in her expression. Gratitude, maybe. Or recognition.
"You get it," she said. "Most people don't."
"I get it." He held her gaze. "And I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Not on my watch."
The words came out more intense than he'd intended, more intimate. He saw the moment they landed, saw the slight widening of her eyes, the catch of her breath.
"Brian..."
"I mean it." He didn't look away. "Whatever this is, whoever this guy is, we'll figure it out. Together."
She was quiet for a long moment. Then she reached across the table and laid her hand over his. Her palm was warm, her fingers small against his larger ones.
"Thank you," she said simply.
He turned his hand over, lacing their fingers together. It felt natural. It felt right.
"Don't thank me yet," he said. "I haven't done anything."
"You believed me. That's something."
They sat there for a moment, hands intertwined, the bustle of the cafe moving around them like water around stones. Lila watched from behind the counter with a knowing smile. Outside, a child laughed at something, high and bright.
Brian thought about the footprints along the fence. The man at the pier. The phone calls from Chicago.
And he thought about the woman sitting across from him, her hand warm in his, her green eyes steady on his face.
Whatever was coming, they'd face it together.
He just hoped he was ready.
Chapter Seven
The call came while Tessa was reading on the deck, the afternoon sun warm on her shoulders, and the sound of Brian's hammer a steady rhythm from the side of the cottage.
She glanced at the screen and felt her shoulders relax when she saw the name. Julia Baker. Her best friend from the hospital, one of the few people who'd understood when Tessa had said she needed to leave.
"Hey, stranger," Julia said when Tessa answered. "You still alive out there in the middle of nowhere?"
"Barely. The sea air might kill me with relaxation." Tessa smiled, settling deeper into the Adirondack chair. "How are things at the hospital?"
