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I laugh, wrapping my arms around him. "I only figured it out today."

Ashby still hasn't moved. "You've thought this through?"

I glance over at him and smile. "Enough to know it's what I want."

He studies me for another second before the tension finally leaves his shoulders. "The logistics are manageable," he says, almost to himself. "We'll make a plan."

Briggs groans. "She's just told us she's staying and you've already opened the spreadsheet in your head."

Ashby's mouth twitches. "It's colour-coded."

Torin laughs under his breath before reaching over to cup my face.

He looks at me for a long time, his eyes shining in a way that steals every word I might've said.

"Welcome home, Laurel."

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Ashby

Town movie night takes over the entire square.

By the time I arrive, strings of lights crisscross overhead, casting warm pools of light across blankets spread over the grass. Kids dart between booths with popcorn spilling from paper tubs while parents call after them without much hope of being heard. Somebody's already started a line at the hot chocolate stand. Somebody else is arguing about where to put the last row of chairs.

The projector sits near the center of it all.

Owen Fitch stands guard beside it like the fate of the town depends on a successful screening. "Nobody touch the cables," he warns.

A teenager halfway through reaching toward the equipment freezes.

Owen lifts a finger. "I'm looking directly at you, Tyler."

Tyler immediately puts both hands in the air. "I wasn't gonna do anything."

"You've got the expression of a guy who's about to create paperwork."

A few people laugh as Tyler retreats into the crowd.

I appreciate Owen's dedication. The man treats technical equipment the way other people treat newborn babies.

I make my way across the square carrying enough supplies to survive an extended power outage. The blankets are tucked under one arm. Extra jackets hang over the other. Water bottles knock together in the bag at my side.

Laurel spots me before I reach her. Her gaze drops to the bag. "You brought a first aid kit."

"I did."

"We're watching a movie."

"There are at least forty children within a hundred-yard radius."

She studies the crowd as if verifying the count.

A little boy sprints past wearing a superhero cape and crashes directly into a folding chair.

Laurel watches him bounce off it and keep running. "Okay, you've made a compelling argument."

"I usually do."