Chapter 26 Chloe
CHLOE
Chloe walked without direction, her boots crunching on the frost-hardened path that wound through Hollow Oak's quieter streets.
She didn't know where she was going. Didn't much care.
She just needed to move, to burn off the sick feeling that had settled in her chest since leaving the Council chamber and the cold air helped.
What the hell did I do?
The question kept circling, unanswerable.
She had spent her whole life trying to be useful, trying to prove she wasn't a threat and earn the trust that others seemed to receive simply by existing.
And none of it mattered. Someone had decided she was the enemy, and now an entire town was paying the price.
She turned down a narrow lane that ran behind the Mercantile, seeking the privacy of the less-traveled paths.
The buildings here were older, their stone walls thick with ivy that had gone brown for winter.
A few delivery carts sat idle near back doors, waiting for morning routes. Voices drifted from around the corner.
Chloe slowed, not wanting to intrude on a private conversation. She was about to turn back when she heard her name.
"...Faelan girl's the common thread. Can't ignore that."
She froze.
The voice was familiar. Quiet, measured, with that particular steadiness she'd come to associate with reliability. Jasper Mince.
"You really think she's doing it on purpose?" A woman's voice, one Chloe didn't recognize.
"I'm not saying on purpose." Jasper's tone was regretful, almost sad. "But druid blood is unpredictable. Old magic, old connections. She might not even know what she's doing."
"She seems nice enough."
"Nice doesn't mean safe." A pause, the sound of something being set down.
"I've been running deliveries through the affected areas for weeks now, along with Whitmore.
And every single spot that's gotten worse, she's been there.
Her hands in the soil, her touch on the plants.
The sickness follows her like a shadow."
Chloe pressed herself against the cold stone wall, her heart pounding so hard she was sure they'd hear it.
Jasper. Quiet, helpful Jasper, who'd shown up at Corin's orchard with tools and sympathy and offers of assistance. Who'd sat in the Council meeting just an hour ago, expressing concern and promising to keep his eyes open. Who Corin had called reliable.
"What about that bear shifter? Corin?" The woman again. "He seems pretty convinced she's innocent."
"Corin's thinking with his heart, not his head.
Can't blame him. She's pretty, she's vulnerable, and his bear's probably got ideas about protecting her.
" Jasper's voice dropped, almost conspiratorial.
"But feelings don't change facts. The contamination started when she arrived.
It's spreading wherever she goes. And now she's got her hooks into one of our best families. "
"The Vanes have always been solid."
"Exactly. Which is why it's so dangerous. If she's influencing Corin, using him to deflect suspicion, the whole town could suffer for it."
Chloe's hands were shaking. She pressed them flat against the stone, trying to steady herself.
This wasn't Paul Whitmore, who'd accused her to her face with barely concealed hostility. This was Jasper, who smiled and offered help and spoke softly at Council meetings about doing what was right. This was someone she'd thought was decent.
"What do you think we should do?" the woman asked.
"I don't know. It's not my place to say." Jasper sighed heavily. "But if she really valued this town, she'd leave. Take whatever's following her somewhere else. Give Hollow Oak a chance to heal."
"That seems harsh."
"Maybe. But sometimes the kindest thing you can do is walk away." Another pause. "I'm not saying she's evil. I'm saying she's dangerous, whether she means to be or not. And the longer she stays, the worse things are going to get."
Footsteps. Movement. Chloe held her breath as the voices faded, moving away toward the main square.
She stood there for a long moment, alone in the narrow lane, her back against the cold stone and her thoughts spiraling.
Jasper believed what he was saying. She could hear it in his voice, that quiet conviction, that sorrowful certainty. He wasn't spreading malicious gossip like Paul. He was sharing genuine concerns with what sounded like genuine regret.
And that was somehow worse.
Malice she could fight. Malice she could dismiss as ignorance or prejudice or fear. But this? This was a good man, a trusted member of the community, looking at the evidence and drawing a logical conclusion.
The contamination started when she arrived. It's spreading wherever she goes. If she cared about this town, she'd leave.
She pushed off from the wall and started walking again, faster now, her breath coming in sharp bursts. The cold bit at her cheeks, her fingers, the exposed skin at her wrists where her sleeves had ridden up. Maybe he was right.
The thought felt like ice. Maybe she was the problem.
Not intentionally, not maliciously, but simply by existing.
Her druid blood, her connection to the land, whatever it was that made her different from everyone else.
Maybe it was attracting something dark, something dangerous, and everyone around her was paying the price.
She thought about Corin. About waking up in his arms, feeling safe for the first time in years. About the way he looked at her like she was the center of his world, like nothing else mattered as long as she was beside him.
If she stayed, she'd keep hurting him. Keep making him defend her against his own community. Keep putting him in the middle of a fight that might tear Hollow Oak apart and that was destroying his livelihood.
If she left...
The thought was unbearable. But so was the alternative.
She found herself at the edge of town, where the buildings gave way to forest and the road curved toward the mountains.
Her cottage was a mile in the other direction.
Corin's orchard was further still. Everything she'd started to build here, every fragile root she'd put down, all of it was behind her.
Ahead was the unknown. Other towns, other places, other chances to start over. She'd done it before. Could do it again. But she didn't want to.
She wanted Hollow Oak. Wanted Freya's warm workroom and Twyla's knowing smiles and the way the mist curled off Moonmirror Lake at dawn. She wanted the life she'd been building, the connections she'd been making, the home she'd finally let herself believe she could have.
She wanted Corin.
But wanting something didn't make it right. Didn't make it safe. Didn't mean she deserved to have it.
The wind picked up, cutting through her coat, and Chloe wrapped her arms around herself. She stood near the edge of everything, looking out at the road that led away from the only place she'd ever wanted to stay.
If she really cared about this town, she'd go.
Jasper's words echoed in her head, mixing with Paul's accusations and the careful exclusions at Twyla's meeting and all the whispered doubts she'd been trying so hard to ignore.
Maybe they were right. Maybe leaving was the kindest thing she could do.
She could slip away quietly. Pack her things tonight, leave a note for Freya, be gone before anyone noticed. Corin would be hurt, but he'd recover. The town would heal. The contamination would stop spreading, and everyone would know for certain that she'd been the cause.
Or it wouldn't stop. And then at least she'd know the truth.
Either way, she wouldn't be the reason Hollow Oak fractured. Wouldn't be the wedge driven between neighbors, the poison at the heart of a community she'd tried so hard to join.
She stood there until her fingers went numb and her cheeks burned from the cold. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, and somewhere behind her, the town was settling in for another evening.
Without her.
She turned, finally, and started walking back. Not toward her cottage. Not toward Corin's orchard. Just back, one foot in front of the other, because she didn't know what else to do.
She needed to figure out what was right, not just what she wanted. But the cold had seeped into her bones, and all she could feel was the weight of Jasper's words pressing down on her like a shroud.
If she valued this town, she'd leave.
Maybe he was right. Maybe leaving was the only gift she had left to give.