Chapter 16 Corin
CORIN
The Mercantile smelled like cedar and old wood and the particular mustiness of a building that had stood for over a century. Corin paused just inside the door, letting his eyes adjust to the dim interior.
Paul Whitmore stood at the counter, leaning in close to Rufus Tansley, his voice low but animated. Two other customers lingered nearby, clearly listening. The body language was unmistakable: gossip spreading like disease through a tree.
Corin's bear wanted to charge across the room and pin Paul to the wall. Wanted to bare his teeth and make it very clear what happened to people who threatened his mate.
But that wasn't how you handled things in Hollow Oak.
This town ran on respect, on careful words, on the understanding that everyone had to live together long after any single conflict ended.
If he came in here roaring, he'd make Chloe look like she needed defending.
Like there was something to defend against.
Instead, he walked to the counter with measured steps, his boots steady on the wooden floor.
"Corin." Rufus straightened, his weathered face neutral. "What brings you in?"
"Heard there was some talk going around about the plant sickness." Corin kept his voice even, conversational. "Figured I should weigh in, seeing as my orchard's been hit hardest."
Paul's expression flickered. He shifted his weight, turning to face Corin with that same mask of reasonable concern he'd probably worn at Freya's shop.
"Just sharing what people are thinking," Paul said. "No harm in that."
"Depends on what you're sharing."
The other customers had gone quiet. Rufus watched with sharp eyes, his brother Edgar emerging from the back room to see what was happening.
"People are worried," Paul continued. "Plants dying all over town. And there's a newcomer with druid blood who's been working with all the affected gardens. Can't blame folks for connecting dots."
"You can when the dots don't connect."
"How do you figure?"
Corin let the silence stretch for a beat. When he spoke, his voice was calm. Steady. The same tone he used when calming a spooked hive.
"The sickness in my orchard started before Chloe ever set foot on my property. I noticed it during the cold snap, four days before she and I ever talked about the soil. She's been helping me track the spread, not causing it."
"You can't know that for certain."
"I can." Corin met Paul's eyes and held them.
"I've been tending that land my whole life.
Four generations of Vanes have worked that soil.
I know what natural damage looks like, and I know what this is.
It's not druidic. It's not Chloe. And spreading rumors that say otherwise isn't just wrong. It's harmful."
The room had gone very still.
Paul's jaw tightened. “Like I said earlier, I'm just voicing what everyone's thinking."
"But you’re the only was voicing it so publicly and that’ll do damage to someone who doesn't deserve it."
Rufus cleared his throat. "Corin's got a point. I've known the Faelan girl since she moved here. She's never been anything but helpful."
"Same," Edgar added from the doorway. "Bought herbs from her just last week. Good quality, fair price."
Paul looked between them. For a moment, Corin thought he might push back. Then the mask slid into place again, smooth and pleasant.
"I'm sure you're right," Paul said. "Just worried about the town, that's all."
"We all are." Corin's voice didn't waver. "But worry doesn't excuse pointing fingers without proof."
Paul held his gaze for a beat too long. "Fair enough." He pushed off from the counter, nodding to Rufus. "I'll let you get back to business."
He walked out without looking at Corin again.
Corin stood at the counter, his heart pounding harder than he'd let show. His bear was agitated and ready, still wanting to chase, to confront, to make absolutely certain that Paul understood what would happen if he kept spreading poison.
But he'd made his point. Quietly. Calmly. The way Vane bears handled things.
"You want anything while you're here?" Rufus asked, breaking the tension.
"Just came to set the record straight."
Rufus nodded slowly. "Consider it set."
Corin walked out into the gray afternoon. Chloe was standing on the steps of Freya's shop across the square, her arms wrapped around herself, watching for him. When she saw him emerge, something in her posture eased.
He crossed the square to meet her.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Just a conversation."
"Corin."
"I told him the truth. That the sickness started before you were involved, and that spreading rumors without proof does more harm than good."
"What did he say?"
"Not much. He backed down."
Chloe's green eyes searched his face, looking for something. "You didn't have to do that."
"Yeah. I did."
She didn't argue. Just stood there, the cold wind catching strands of her pale blonde hair, her cheeks pink from the chill.
"Can I walk you home?"
“Uh, sure. Yes. Let me grab my things.”
They fell into step together, moving away from the square toward the quieter streets where Chloe's rented cottage sat at the end of Maple Lane. Neither of them spoke for a while. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, exactly. Just heavy with things unsaid.
"I found something at the well," Corin said finally. "When I dug down to the seal."
Chloe glanced at him. "You mentioned that. That someone broke it deliberately."
"The mortar was chipped away in a careful line. Someone dug down, cracked it just enough to start a leak, and then covered their tracks." He kept his voice low, mindful of the houses they were passing. "This wasn't an accident, Chloe. Someone did this on purpose."
"Do you know who?"
"Not yet. But I need to find out." He paused. "I didn't tell anyone else about this. Not publicly. If whoever did it finds out we're onto them, they might cover their tracks even better. Or do something worse."
"So you just defended me without explaining why you were so sure."
"Your word should be enough. It was enough for me."
Chloe stopped walking, and he stopped with her, turning to face her on the quiet street.
"Why are you doing this?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Defending me, walking me home, acting like... like I matter to you.”
"You do matter to me," he said quickly. "I thought that was obvious."
He heard her breath falter. For a moment, she just stared at him, those green eyes wide with surprise. She gathered herself quickly thought. “Well, not too long ago you were accusing me it felt like.”
He felt himself flinch at her reminding him of that.
“I know, I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intent. I’m just…” Corin didn’t know how to finish that sentence. And, thankfully, he didn’t have to.
She smiled softly, barely visible. Her hand lifted, fingers hovering near his arm but not quite touching. The space between them felt charged.
Then she pulled back.
"I should get home." Her voice was unsteady. "I was supposed to meet Twyla for tea, but I think I'll skip it today. I'm tired."
"I can walk you the rest of the way."
"I'm okay. It's just a few more blocks."
She was retreating. He could feel it, the walls going back up, the distance she was putting between them. His bear growled in frustration, but he held back.
"Okay." He stepped back, giving her space. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Maybe. I'll let you know."
She turned and walked away, her boots crunching on the gravel path. Corin watched her go, his hands shoved in his pockets as he forced himself to bite his tongue.
She'd almost reached for him. Almost.
And then she'd pulled away, the same way she always did. Like she couldn't quite believe that someone might actually want her close.
He understood that. Understood the walls she'd built around herself, the years of whispers and suspicion that had taught her not to trust. He wanted to tear those walls down and show her that she was safe with him, that he would never give her a reason to doubt.
But Elias's words came back through his mind: Vane bears don't rush claims. They wait to be chosen.
So he waited.
He watched until she disappeared around the corner, until even his bear's sharp ears couldn't track her footsteps anymore.