“I feel…” I pause, letting myself check in properly instead of answering automatically. “Better.”
She nods like that’s exactly the answer she was expecting. “Good. Because if you’d let that man scare you off, I would’ve had to haunt him personally, and I don’t have the patience for that kind of long-term commitment.”
“Noted,” I say solemnly.
Her hand comes up, squeezing my arm briefly. “Your grandmother would’ve loved this.”
My chest tightens, but it doesn’t hurt the way it used to.
I look out over the square again, the lights, the people, the way everything feels like it’s glowing from the inside out, and I can almost hear Evie’s voice layered over it, warm and amused and a little bit smug.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I think she would’ve.”
Dottie pats my arm once more and then disappears back into the crowd like she’s got three more conversations to start and at least one secret to collect before the day is over.
I take a breath.
And step in.
The first thing that happens is someone hands me a slice of pie.
I don’t question it.
I accept it like this is a perfectly normal part of reentering society after being kidnapped, because honestly, in Coyote Glen, it kind of is.
“Apple,” Terry Claymore announces proudly, chest puffed out just slightly.
Joanne leans over his shoulder immediately. “He didn’t make it alone.”
“I supervised,” Terry adds, like that somehow proves his point.
“Which isn’t the same thing,” Joanne snaps.
I grin, warmth spreading through me in a way that feels easy now instead of overwhelming. “It’s beautiful.”
“Of course it is,” Joanne says. “Eat it.”
So I do, and it’s incredible. They look so pleased when I tell them that it makes my chest soften even further.
This is how this place works.
You show up.
You stay.
You get handed pie and opinions and, apparently, a place at the table whether you planned for it or not.
It should feel like too much.
But it doesn’t.
Not anymore.
By the time I reach The Hollow, the music has already spilled out into the street, threading through the night like something alive.
Inside, it’s packed, bodies moving, voices raised, laughter bouncing off the walls, and I just stand in the doorway and let it hit me. The cakes have pretty much gone already, but it seems like people didn’t just come here for the bake sale.
The bass thrums, a beat I can feel in my ribs as much as I can hear. The lights are dim and warm, catching on glass and skin and movement, turning everything softer around the edges.
