What if I left?
What if I went back to school—not for library science this time, but something new? Editing, maybe. I always loved words, loved the rhythm of sentences, the way stories fit together. I could study again, start fresh, create something that isn’t built on ashes.
Then again, maybe I’m just running from the fact that everything’s changing. Liam’s pulling away. Maddox is quieter lately.
And Knox… Knox is a thought I can’t shake, no matter how hard I try. How can one night with this man have me so twisted inside?
He’s not like the others. With Liam, it was comfort.
My crush on Shepard, on the other hand, was unspoken—something that simmered just under the surface, never fully acknowledged. And see how well that turned out in the end!
But Knox? He’s possibility. He’s the first man in a long time who made me feel… something.
I trace the rim of my paper cup, lost in the sound of the mayor’s voice fading in and out.
Maybe I’ll go to Bar 2.0 again. Just once. See if he’s there. Maybe he won’t be. Maybe he will. And maybe, for a few hours, I’ll stop feeling like I’m standing still while everyone else is moving forward.
The thought lingers as the meeting drags on. I glance around the room one last time, and for a heartbeat, I swear I can almost feel Knox’s eyes on me—steady, knowing, dangerous in the way comfort never is.
The mayor clears his throat, calling for volunteers for next week’s cleanup effort, and Cora nudges me with her elbow. “You in?”
I nod automatically, but my mind’s already elsewhere—on a bar by the cliffs, a man with storm-colored eyes, and a question I’m not ready to answer.
What if the thing I’m looking for isn’t purpose, or home, or even direction—what if it’s him?
What if the thing I need is romance?
Knox
The hall smells like floor polish and coffee that’s been sitting too long on a warmer. Voices overlap—low murmurs, restless, threaded through with the sound of folding chairs scraping against linoleum.
The air carries that small-town electricity that builds when everyone gathers in one place, full of opinions and nerves. I can almost feel it prickling against my skin.
Jake stands beside me near the front, half-grinning, the kind of smile that saysdon’t screw this up. Beside him, Captain Gabe Ashford leans back in his seat, arms folded across his chest, posture relaxed but eyes sharp. I’ve only worked with him for a few hours, but he seems reliable enough.
When the mayor clears his throat, the crowd hushes—mostly. A baby cries somewhere near the back, followed by the sound of someone shushing it. The mayor straightens, adjusts his glasses, and raises his voice.
“Folks, as you know, our community’s been through a lot these past months. The fires, the losses, the rebuilding—it’s tested all of us. But Driftwood’s nothing if not resilient.” He pauses, letting the murmurs settle again. “Today, we officially welcome our new sheriff, Mr. Knox Hill, who’s moved herefrom New York City. He’s already met with the department and Captain Ashford, and we’re lucky to have him. Sheriff Hill?”
I step forward, the weight of a hundred eyes following me. The podium’s too short. The mic squeals once when I touch it, earning a few laughs. Small ones, but it breaks the tension.
“Evening,” I start. My voice echoes off the high ceilings. “I know most of you don’t know me yet. I’ve only been in Driftwood a few hours, but I’ve already seen what kind of place this is. You look out for each other. You show up when it matters. That’s what makes a community strong.”
A few nods. Some faces soften. Others stay wary. I can’t blame them. A stranger walking in with a badge—people wonder what that means, what I’ll change, if I’ll understand what it’s like to live where everyone knows your business.
“I came from a city that never stops moving,” I continue. “Here, things are slower—but that’s not the same as safe. After the fires, it’s natural to worry about what comes next. I’ve reviewed the reports. Some of the incidents were accidents. But not all of them. There’s been talk of arsons tied to insurance claims, and while I won’t confirm anything before the investigation’s done, I can tell you this much: Someone’s been taking advantage of your losses. Of your trust. That ends now.”
The room shifts. People lean in. Chairs creak. Gabe glances at me, nodding once, subtle approval in the tilt of his head.
“I’ll be working closely with Captain Ashford and his team,” I say, gesturing toward him. “We’re restructuring coordination between the sheriff’s office and the fire department—shared call logs, faster response routes, joint inspections where necessary. The goal isn’t just to react, it’s to prevent. We’ll be putting up cameras near the pier, updating the volunteer patrols, and reinforcing safety protocols for the businesses downtown. Driftwood deserves to feel secure again. My job is to make sure you can.”
A low rumble of agreement moves through the crowd. Not applause yet, but acceptance. I take a breath and let my shoulders ease a fraction.
Then I see her.
It happens by accident. I glance toward the back of the room, looking for one of the deputies. But my gaze catches on something else instead—blonde hair, a flash of green eyes that are unflinching.
Millie.
