I straighten, scanning the nearby buildings. Everything looks normal enough. Closed storefronts. A few parked cars. Nothing out of place. And yet…
I push the feeling aside and grab another box. As I turn back toward the bookstore, my foot catches slightly on the uneven pavement. The box tilts in my arms, and I tighten my grip to keep from dropping it.
“Careful,” I mutter to myself.
The last thing I need is to destroy my inventory before I even get started. I carry the box inside and set it down near the others, wiping my hands on my jeans. My gaze drifts to the shelf Archer steadied earlier.
It’s still standing. Barely.
I step closer, studying it more carefully this time. The joints are loose, the wood warped. One of the back panels is cracked clean through. There’s no salvaging it.
“Okay,” I say, more firmly now. “That one goes.”
I grip the side of the shelf and start easing it away from the wall, moving slowly to keep it from collapsing again. It wobbles immediately, protesting the movement.
“Don’t you dare,” I warn it under my breath.
It creaks ominously but doesn’t give. I manage to drag it a few feet before setting it down again, stepping back to reassess. My heart is beating faster than it should be for something this simple.
This place is going to fight me every step of the way. Fine. I’ve handled worse.
I glance around, taking stock again—really taking stock this time. The ceiling stain is larger than I initially thought. The floor dips more noticeably near the back. There’s a faint draft coming from somewhere, cool air brushing against my skin.
Windows? Foundation?
Both?
I let out a slow breath.
“Okay. Step one: don’t get crushed. Step two: don’t go bankrupt fixing this place.”
Simple. Totally manageable. A laugh slips out, softer this time, less sharp. I move back toward the counter and lean against it, pulling out my phone. No signal. Of course.
I walk closer to the front windows, holding it up like that might somehow help. A single bar flickers, then disappears.
“Great,” I mutter.
So much for looking up contractors or calling anyone for help. I look toward the mechanic shop next door. The garage door is still open. But it looks empty now.
I hesitate for a second, considering. Then I shake my head.
No. I am not going to go knocking on his door after that… whatever that was. He already made it clear this place is a disaster. I don’t need him reminding me again.
I tuck my phone back into my pocket and push away from the counter. There’s still work to do. Even if it’s slow. Even if it’s frustrating. Even if the building feels like it’s one bad moment away from falling apart around me. I pick up another book, setting it carefully on the shelf.
“One step at a time,” I say quietly.
And this time, I believe it.
2
ARCHER
The moment she pulls into town, I know.
I’m under a truck, halfway through replacing a transmission, when it hits me. Not a thought. Not a realization. A punch.
My tiger surges up inside me, awake and alert in a way that’s immediate and absolute. My muscles lock, breath catching as something primal snaps into place.
