Her eyes are wide, fixed on me like she’s trying to reconcile what she just saw with what she thought she knew. I straighten slowly, every movement deliberate now. Careful. Measured.
But it doesn’t matter. She saw enough. More than enough. There’s no explaining this away. No brushing it off. No pretending I’m just… human.
A quiet, bitter thought threads through me. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I take a step toward her. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t run. Doesn’t speak. Just watches. Waiting.
I stop a few feet away, keeping my distance. For her. For me.
“You shouldn’t have come out here,” I say.
Her voice is shaky, but steady enough. “I wasn’t going to hide while someone tried to break in.”
Of course she wasn’t. Stubborn. Fearless. Human.
“He’s gone,” I tell her.
“For now?” she asks.
I don’t lie.
“For now.”
She nods slowly, absorbing that.
Then her gaze sharpens.
“What was that?” she demands.
There it is. The question I can’t dodge anymore. I glance down at my hands briefly—at the faint traces of the shift still lingering beneath my skin—then back at her. No more half-truths.
No more distance. That option is gone.
“You already know it wasn’t normal,” I say.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I can give without?—”
“Without what?” she cuts in. “Actually telling me the truth?”
Frustration flickers, but it burns out quickly. She deserves better than what I’ve been giving her. I know that. I’ve always known that. I just didn’t want the consequences that come with it. But those consequences are already here. Standing in front of me. Looking at me like everything’s about to change. Because it is.
I exhale slowly.
“This town isn’t what you think it is,” I say.
Her brow furrows. “You’ve said that before.”
“And you didn’t listen.”
“Because you didn’t explain,” she shoots back.
Fair.
I nod once. “Then listen now.”
She crosses her arms, bracing herself. “I’m listening.”
I hesitate. Not because I don’t know what to say. Because once I say it?—
