"Really, I'm fine. I just need to get through the next two days, and then I can rest. I promise." She touched Raven's arm, just briefly, and even that small contact sent warmth spreading through Raven's chest. "Thank you for caring about Jamie. It means a lot."
Then she was gone, swept away by Gloria who had apparently discovered a new crisis involving the backdrop.
Raven stood there for a moment, watching Annabelle dive back into the chaos with that same determinedly cheerful expression.
She wanted to grab her by the shoulders and tell her to stop. To take a break. To let someone else fix things for once.
But she didn't. Because Annabelle wouldn't listen, and Raven didn't have the right to make her.
Instead, she left the village hall and walked back to her cottage, her mind churning.
IT WAS PAST midnight when Raven finally gave up on sleep.
She'd been lying in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, unable to shut off her brain. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Annabelle's exhausted face. Heard Jamie talking about his parents fighting. Felt that moment when their eyes had met across the hall. And she thought about the phone calls and the offers and the knowledge that at some point she’d have to leave. Sooner rather than later if the increasing amount of journos around had any say in the matter.
Finally, she got up, grabbed her guitar, and settled onto the sofa.
She didn't think about what she was going to play. Didn't plan it or force it. She just let her fingers find the strings and followed where they led.
Slowly, a melody emerged. Quiet. Gentle. Almost like a lullaby.
And then words came with it:
In the darkest corners
When the noise won't stop
There's a light that flickers
Never quite goes out
In the smallest kindness
In a child's shy smile
There's a strength that carries
Makes it all worthwhile
It wasn't polished. It wasn't something she could release or perform or even really call a proper song. Maybe on a B-side though.
And it wasdone. Complete. It felt whole. The first finished piece she'd written since Vegas, since Alissa, since everything fell apart.
Raven set her guitar aside carefully and stared at her notebook.
She'd written about Annabelle. About Jamie. About this strange little village and the way it had somehow worked its way under her skin.
She'd written about hope.
"Fuck," she whispered.
Because this wasn't just attraction anymore. This wasn't just physical. This was something bigger. Something that made her chest ache and her hands shake and her carefully constructed walls feel paper-thin.
She liked Annabelle. Really, truly liked her. More than she'd ever liked anyone, maybe. More than she'd ever liked Alissa, certainly, because with Alissa it had always been intense and passionate and volatile. A wildfire that burned hot and fast and left nothing but ash.
This was different. This was gentle and terrifying and felt like it might actually matter.
Raven pulled a blanket around her shoulders and looked at the wall that separated her cottage from Annabelle's.
