Page 31 of Easy, Tiger

"Yes, I truly appreciate that. All of today."

"My pleasure." Something passes between us in the cab that stops my breath short. "Still planning on going to the barn dance tonight?"

"Wouldn't miss it," I say, a smile pulling at my lips.

"Good. See you there, Halsey."

"Yeah, see you tonight."

His taillights fade down the mountain road before I finally head inside, my skin still tingling from where he'd held me. That gaze he'd fixed on me beside the creek, like I was something he wanted to protect and cherish and maybe devour all at once.

The attraction isn't one-sided. I'm sure of it now.

12

NOLAN

The blue hush of evening transforms the workshop, shadows pooling between workbenches while the remnants of wood shavings and linseed oil hover thick around us. We came straight here after the barn dance let out, still riding the same day that started with her sliding off a creek log into my arms. Halsey sits cross-legged on the floor beside my half-finished dining table, her back against the wall, cheeks currently flushed from two hours of dancing.

"I can't remember the last time I danced that much." She slides the elastic from her hair, letting those dark curls spill over her shoulders. "I danced with Ben, then Beckham spun me around the floor until I was dizzy. Even Sadie and Amelia dragged me into a line dance, and Mayor Tapper has surprisingly good rhythm for a politician. My feet are going to hate me tomorrow."

Lounging against the workbench, I watch how the lamplight catches the gold flecks in her eyes. "Worth it though. You looked happy out there."

"I was happy. It's been a while since I felt like I belonged somewhere."

She stays silent, and her silence says everything. Setting down the chisel I'd been absently turning in my hands, I give her my full attention.

"What happened, Halsey? The real story."

She draws her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. "I told you the basics already. The forged evidence, the clients who vanished overnight." She picks at a loose thread on her jeans. "What I didn't tell you is how long it took me to pick up a pencil again after. Weeks. I kept waiting to feel like myself, and I didn't, not until I got here."

"And now?"

"Now I draw every day and mostly forget to be afraid of it." Her mouth curves, small and real. "Red Pine did that. You did that a little."

"You did that yourself. I merely handed you frames."

"Maybe. Some days, I find myself waiting for it to disappear again. The confidence, the steady hands, all of it. Like it's borrowed and someone's going to ask for it back." I trace her outline patterns on the dusty floor with my finger, my eyes following the lines. "Hard to trust something good when the last good thing got ripped out from under you without warning."

"I watched you cut that hawk loose from fishing line without a single hesitation. Watched you hammer boards until you had blisters, simply so hikers wouldn't twist an ankle on a trail you didn't even build. That's not someone who cuts corners."

Her eyes soften instead of narrowing. "You remember all that?"

"I remember all of it." That much, at least, isn't a lie. "Point is, you keep helping things that can't help you back. That says everything about who you are."

"What about you? What are you running from in these mountains?"

Her question hits closer to home than she knows. "Hm, more like protecting."

"From what?"

Picking up a piece of sandpaper, I run it along the table's edge while I filter my words with intent. "My family's been in these mountains for generations. We have responsibilities here that most people wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"There are things in these woods that need safeguarding. Old ways, old bloodlines. Sometimes that means making choices that hurt people you care about to keep them safe."

"Sounds lonely."