Chapter Fifteen
MARC
I’d noted Delaney the second I walked into the diner.
How could I not?
My gaze found her as if she was my personal homing beacon anytime we entered the same space. The more time we spent together lately, the more I recognized that it had always been this way with her.
Which was incredibly and annoyingly inconvenient.
Chaos chose that exact moment to yank on the leash hard enough to nearly dislocate my shoulder.
“I think the fuck not,” I told him.
He stared at me as if I’d said something deeply offensive.
Glamma had already shifted her attention to Wyatt.
She knew better than to trap him the way she had me.
Actually, that wasn’t accurate—Glamma would totally trap Wyatt.
She just preferred to work her way down a list with the patience of a very organized predator.
I had no doubt she’d win. She’d produced genuinely miraculous things in less than twenty-four hours before.
Bachelor auction.
Even thinking the words made my left eye twitch.
I was a veterinarian. I dealt in measurable things. Weight, temperature, bloodwork, the very specific and documentable chaos of a twenty-pound goat who had, in the last forty hours, eaten a phone charger, two pens, and a document I genuinely needed.
“Baaah!”
Where the hell had he gone now?
I ran a hand through my hair and turned toward the sound. The goat had gotten himself stuck. What remained of his leash was wrapped around two chair legs, a purse strap, and someone’s ankle.
Statistically impressive.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, rushing over to Mrs. Halstead.
“It’s fine.” She laughed and then went right back to her conversation, as though having livestock tangled around her ankle was a normal breakfast occurrence. She did have five children and was probably used to the unexpected.
“Hold still,” I told Chaos as I crouched to his level, trying to keep enough personal space between myself and Mrs. Halstead’s leg.
Chaos headbutted me every time I got close. By the time I stood back up, I was fairly certain I’d pulled a muscle, and completely certain I’d become entertainment for a solid third of the diner.
Great. A preview of tomorrow night’s main event.
But Delaney also had her eyes on me.
I gave her a small wave, turned to the counter, placed an order with Nora, and asked her to deliver it to Wyatt’s table when it was ready.
I quickly formulated a plan. A good one. Place the order, collect the goat, sit with my brother, and under absolutely no circumstances think about the fact that Delaney Hart was twelve feet away and her hair was shining in the sunlight from the window—
Chaos jerked the leash clean out of my hand.
Without so much as a glance back at me, he trotted directly to Delaney’s booth with the purpose of an animal who’d been given GPS coordinates and a personal mission. Once he got within petting distance of her, he leaned against her leg with the ease of an old, established friendship.
Delaney laughed—a bright, completely unselfconscious sound, the kind that made half the diner look over—and dropped her hand to scratch behind his ears.
“Well, hello there,” she murmured.
The goat melted farther into her. Thirty pounds of chaos that had been actively trying to maim me for the better part of an hour went boneless against her knee as though she’d hit a switch on his back.
I stared longer than was probably advisable.
“Want me to take your order to Delaney’s table instead?” Nora asked, with a gleam in her eyes.
“Wyatt’s table is fine.”
She hummed in a way that suggested she disagreed.
I strode to Delaney’s booth with what I hoped was the energy of a man simply retrieving his goat, and not of a man who’d been looking for an excuse to visit her table since he walked in.
“Sorry about that,” I said, reaching for Chaos’s leash.
“It’s fine.” She gave the goat one last scratch. “You’re being a good baby right now, aren’t you?”
The second my hand got close, Chaos launched himself upward—a heat-seeking missile—directly at Delaney.
“Shit—”
I lunged.
My arm came down against the back of the booth beside her shoulder. My other hand grabbed for his collar. Chaos twisted sideways with the flexibility of an Olympic gymnast, skittered to the far end of the bench, and slow-blinked at me as though I was the one being unreasonable.
I inhaled slowly. Contained my irritation.
My arm was still braced against the back of Delaney’s seat.
The booth had seemed normal-sized thirty seconds ago.
It did not currently feel that way. She smelled of lavender, and her face was close enough that I could see the small indent at the corner of her mouth that appeared when she was trying not to smile.
Her eyes lifted to meet mine, and she bit her bottom lip. My attention now fully locked onto them.
Neither of us moved.
Move, I told myself. Create a normal amount of distance between two people.
With considerable effort, I leaned back and dropped my arm to my side.
Delaney cleared her throat. “If you sit down, he’ll settle on his own once he figures out you’re not trying to grab him.”
She was probably right, so I slid into the booth beside her.
The space was smaller than I’d expected. Our thighs pressed together before I’d fully sat down, and there was absolutely nowhere to shift without making it more obvious that I’d noticed.
I lifted my arm to rest along the back of the booth in what I told myself was a completely practical bid for more space and not anything else.
Delaney leaned back slightly, and her hair brushed across my forearm. A small, almost impeccable shiver made her body tremble.
I tried very hard not to notice or react to it, and failed on both counts.
“Since Chaos is keeping me hostage,” I said, forcing a neutral tone through sheer force of will, “we should finalize our next planning session.”
Delaney grinned. “With or without the goat?”
“Preferably without, but I’m no longer confident I get a vote.”
Chaos bleated smugly.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
I’d seen her do that a thousand times. The motion was instantly recognizable. Like she was buying time as she thought.
“Tuesday night?” she offered. “That gives us a few days to look at what worked and see what other animals Theo might recommend.”
“Tuesday’s good.” I adjusted my glasses.
Across the table, Adele’s expression shifted to something I couldn’t quite classify. Her attention moved to Delaney—one eyebrow up, a slight head tilt—then slid deliberately to me.
Delaney gave a small shake of her head.
“Everything all right?” I asked.
“Yes,” Adele said quickly. “She had something on her face.”
She tossed a napkin at Delany, who caught it and wiped her cheek with attention. It was clear she was not going to make eye contact with me right now.
Weird. I filed that reaction alongside the shiver.
Neither made sense.
Before I could say anything else, Chaos hopped down from the bench seat and skirted out from under the table.
I stood and caught what was left of his leash. “I guess that’s my cue to go. See you Tuesday.”
“At the shelter?” Delaney confirmed.
“The shelter.” I hesitated. It was a small hesitation. I’m not even sure she caught it. “You should come tomorrow night,” I added. “To the auction.”
“Oh, she’ll be there,” Adele added brightly. “In the front. Center table.”
Center table?
I didn’t examine too closely what knowing that did to me. Or why a pleasant warmth settled within me at seeing her again.
“Maybe she’ll even bid on someone,” Adele continued, with a grin that suggested she was enjoying herself enormously.
My stomach dropped straight through the diner floor.
The thought hadn’t occurred to me. Okay, that was a lie.
The thought had not occurred to me in this specific, concrete way, that she could bid on someone who was not me, and now that it had, I needed it to go back to wherever it came from.
The auction was already a disaster waiting to happen, and I didn’t need additional variables.
Delaney, to her credit, looked like she was considering tossing her coffee at Adele.
I got Chaos sorted and turned toward Wyatt’s table before I said anything inadvisable, like tell Adele that Delaney should specifically not bid on anyone else, which would have been an insane thing to say, so I kept my mouth shut.
I took approximately two steps.
“Delaney, I’m so glad I caught you.” Mrs. Halstead stopped at the booth, hand already reaching for Delaney’s arm in a way that people often did when they were excited and hadn’t thought about personal space yet.
I paused.
This was not my business. I had eggs getting cold at Wyatt’s table. I had a goat who was eyeing someone’s toast. I had absolutely no reason to stand here.
I stayed.
“I wanted to thank you again," Ada Halstead said. “For last week. I feel—I don’t know how to explain it. Lighter. My shoulders have been unknotted for six days straight, and I haven’t been able to say that in three years. I’d like to make another appointment.”
Delaney gave her a bright, warm smile. Her whole face changed when she smiled like that.
Not the performative smile she used when she was being polite, but this quieter, more anchored version of it.
“I’m so happy to hear that.” She grabbed her phone and opened up her messaging app.
“I just sent you the booking link—you can grab whatever slot works for you, and call the shop if you have any questions.”
“I will.” Ada half-turned to go, then stopped. “I almost forgot. My sister wanted me to pass along her thanks.”
Delaney’s expression softened further.
“Melinda came in last week too. You remember—she had that mass in her stomach. The one they’d been watching for months.
She was nervous about surgery. About what they’d find.
” Ada’s voice had gone careful in that way that suggested her news was bigger than her emotions knew what to do with.
“They did new scans this week to prep for the procedure.”
She stopped. Pressed her lips together. “The mass is gone.” Her hand shifted to rest over Delaney’s.
“No explanation. The doctors were baffled, but Melinda wasn’t.
She said when you worked on her, she felt—she said she felt the energy collect right there, then release.
” A shaky breath. “She wanted you to know.”
The diner had not gone quiet. There was still the sound of silverware and conversation, and Chaos made a run for it the second I was distracted—likely for that person’s toast—and I was going to have to deal with it in a minute. But something had shifted in the immediate radius of this booth.
Delaney threaded her fingers through Ada’s and held on. “I’m so glad,” she said quietly. “Tell her she’s always welcome.”
Ada squeezed her hand and returned to her table.
I stood there.
The probability of coincidence was high.
Spontaneous remission happened. Stress reduction improved outcomes.
There were documented mechanisms for how relaxation-based interventions could affect the body’s systems. I knew this.
I’d been researching more about it since I agreed to help with the yoga class.
But Ada Halstead’s shoulders had come down from somewhere around her ears the moment she’d said the words. And Delaney hadn’t taken credit for the scan results, hadn’t claimed she’d fixed anything—she’d just said she’s always welcome. Like she knew with certainty exactly what had happened.
That was—that was a thing I hadn’t expected to observe about her.
I didn’t know what to do with that yet. My entire framework was built on what could be proven, and this couldn’t be proven. It also couldn’t be disproven. And yet Ada Halstead looked like she could breathe again.
I gave Delaney a quick nod meant to be neutral and probably wasn’t, collected Chaos, and made my way to Wyatt’s table.
“If you stare any harder, you’ll burn a hole through her,” Wyatt said, eyes still on his coffee.
“I wasn’t staring.”
His head came up. His face stilled, then tightened at the corners. Not anger. Not confusion. Disbelief, I decided.
I sat down and picked up my fork. My eggs were cold. I ate them anyway.
Wyatt grunted.
“What?” I asked without looking up.
“Adele. Just promised Glamma and Grace she’d bid at the auction.” His jaw rigid, a muscle ticked.
“On whom?”
“She didn’t specify,” he practically growled. “I saw Grace show her a sheet of who the bachelors were.”
“Did you agree to participate in the auction?”
“Fuck no. I offered to do simple tattoos for a couple as part of their winning date. Figured it would get her off my back.” His eyes narrowed, settling on Adele. “Maybe I will though.”
I held in my laughter. Glamma strikes again. She knew directly asking Wyatt to be a bachelor would backfire. So she went for his weakness. Adele.
I set down my fork and waited, tilted my head with what I hoped said, just fucking spill already. “You’ve never said—”
“And I’m not,” Wyatt snapped.
“Don’t be an asshole. I just want to help.”
Wyatt rubbed at the back of his neck and let out a sigh. “I know. I’m sorry. I just … I can’t talk about it. It’s complicated.”
“You’ve been saying that for a while now,” I said. “At some point, complicated is just a thing you’re choosing.”
I hated seeing my brother like this. But until he was ready to talk or ask for help, there was nothing I could do except be there for him.
There were only eighteen months between us.
We’d grown up close, and that hadn’t diminished over the years.
I’d be there for him when he was finally able to name whatever had broken the tight friendship he’d had with Adele.
Chaos sat directly on my foot and blinked up at me.
“The auction is going to be a disaster,” I finally said.
Wyatt raised his coffee mug. “Absolutley.”
The idea of standing on that stage while people bid on me was deeply unsettling.
Unfortunately, the shelter needed the funding.
And refusing would create unnecessary conflict with Glamma when we both knew I’d give in anyway.
Across the diner, Delaney stood to leave.
Chaos immediately tugged to go toward her.
I tightened my grip on the leash.
Animals tended to have very good instincts.
Which meant if Delaney attended the auction, tomorrow night had the potential to become complicated.
I looked down at Chaos.
He blinked back up at me.
Center table, Adele had said.
My stomach did that thing it had been doing lately every time I tried to reason my way around Delaney Hart.
Complicated. I’d just used that word with Wyatt. My advice still ringing in my ears.
Was I just choosing to complicate things or was there something else going on here?