The Girls of North Town #2
Maybe getting caught had finally shaken some sense into him. But even now, with color rising to his cheeks, there was still that glint in his hazel eyes—a flicker of mischief that made her doubt the depth of his remorse.
She tried to pull away. “Let go! I’m fine.”
He didn’t release her. Instead, he caught her hand and turned it over, exposing her scraped palm. “You’re not fine.”
“I said I’m fine.” She yanked her hand free and brushed it off herself. The sting was nothing compared to the heat rising in her face. She glared up at him—
And that’s when she saw it, a red mark just below his collarbone. Obvious. Brazen.
Her face went even hotter.
Nic fumbled with his buttons, covering the mark with an awkward shrug. “I was walking her home,” he said, too casually, “and we decided to take a slight detour.”
“A detour?” Her voice cut sharper than she intended. “I don’t care what the two of you were doing. I just hope you didn’t leave a mark where her father can see it.”
That wiped the smirk off his face. He went pale.
Good. Let him panic a little.
He glanced toward the bushes, then back at her, clearly trying to hold onto that cocky mask—but it was slipping. There was a flicker of dread beneath the charm. Still, he tried. “I was thinking of going to see Collin and Aries later. Want to come?”
The question landed with a dull thud. She must’ve fallen harder than she thought—her wrist was starting to ache, and her knees throbbed with bruises. But the real soreness was deeper, tangled up in the humiliation still clinging to her like nettles.
She crossed her arms. “I just came from there.”
Just then, Helen whimpered softly, the sound fragile as spun glass.
"What’s the matter, Biscuit?"
"She needs help with her lacings," Dragonfly snapped coldly.
Nic raked a hand through his tousled hair, finally letting go of the cocky mask he wore like armor. His voice was quiet, almost desperate. “Can you help her, please? I tried to lace her up once before but...”
Dragonfly looked away. His gaze was too earnest, too soft—and far too familiar. She knew that look. She’d grown up watching it work on nearly every girl in town.
But not her.
Still, the pleading in his eyes tugged at her resolve, and she hated that it did.
A scrub jay hopped too close to her cake pan, eyeing the blackberries with bold intent. Grateful for the excuse to turn, she shooed it away.
Nic followed her eyes, then scooped up the pan and brought it back to her, voice low and wheedling. “Please. For Helen’s sake.”
He smiled. Those dimples. That same boyish charm he wielded like a weapon. She crossed her arms. She was not one of those foolish girls who melted at his grin. He deserved a good scare from Helen’s father, truly—but Helen didn’t. Poor Helen.
Dragonfly had delivered her family’s tax payments more than once. Even she found the steward frightening. She couldn’t imagine how Nic had ever summoned the courage to call on the man’s daughter. Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe it had all been secret.
Still, Helen was the one who’d get in trouble. The image of her—timid, sweet, sobbing in a laced-up bodice—made Dragonfly sigh.
“Fine,” she muttered. “How do I get in there?”
Nic’s face lit up, and he turned, leading her around the hedge maze toward the entrance. The bushes had definitely been cut—clean and deliberate. There was no knife on him, but it didn’t take much to guess how often he came here.
She hesitated at the narrow gap in the foliage. The place felt too private. A world she had no right to step into. This was where they kissed and clung and whispered things no one else was meant to hear. She had no business crossing that threshold.
But then Helen—curled in on herself, shoulders trembling, face hidden in her skirt.
Dragonfly’s stomach twisted.
Her voice cracked as she spun on Nic. “Look what you did.”
Nic was already at Helen’s side, dropping into the clover like it was the most natural thing in the world. He pulled her close, murmuring soft reassurances, pressing her face against his chest.
He looked like he adored her.
The way he held her—gentle, protective, entirely focused—made Dragonfly’s chest swell. She shouldn’t have been watching. She shouldn’t have felt anything at all.
But she did.
There was tenderness between them. Real tenderness. It wasn’t just about stolen kisses and fumbling hands—it was comfort, loyalty, affection that asked for nothing in return.
Was this what love looked like?
She imagined Collin, not as a friend or companion, but as a lover. Would he hold her like that—shielding her from the world, anchoring her in his arms? And if the time came, could she offer him the same safety, the same unwavering devotion?
Helen, curled small against Nic, was still crying. No surprise—being caught like that must’ve been mortifying. Nic was doing his best to soothe her, but his words could only reach so far. And Helen’s fear about her disheveled clothes was probably justified.
Dragonfly hesitated. The whole thing still too surreal—like she'd walked into a chapter of someone else’s life.
How had these two even fallen in love? Nic was loud, teasing, impulsive.
Helen was quiet as snowfall. They couldn’t have been more different.
What had Lekyi been thinking introducing them?
Still... they’d found each other.
She sighed and stepped forward. “Let me help you, Helen. I promise, I won’t say a word to anyone.”
Helen couldn’t meet her eyes, but she nodded faintly. “I would be truly grateful.”
Dragonfly knelt and began re-lacing Helen’s stays with quick, practiced fingers. Nic sank down beside them, tossing blackberries into the air and catching them in his mouth like nothing was wrong. His grin was back, unbothered and boyish, as if the last ten minutes hadn’t happened. The scoundrel.
Helen’s chemise had to be tugged higher than usual to hide the bruise blooming at her collarbone. Even then, a trace of it showed. After some trial and error, Dragonfly arranged Helen’s hair so it spilled over one shoulder.
“There,” she said. “Keep your hair like that and no one will notice a thing.”
Helen gave a shy smile and smoothed her skirt. “Thank you so much.”
Nic sprang to his feet and grabbed Dragonfly’s hand, pressing a dramatic kiss to her knuckles. “I owe you something wonderful.”
Before she could roll her eyes, she tugged his sleeve and pulled him down to whisper, “I don’t want to embarrass Helen, but unless you’re prepared to learn how to lace complicated bodices, maybe suggest she wear something that laces in front next time you decide to go trysting.”
Nic straightened, his smile wicked. “What about the spontaneous ones we don’t plan?”
She glared. She shouldn’t find him amusing. She really shouldn’t. But it was hard not to. That’s what made him dangerous—how easily charm could deflect consequence. One day it would catch up to him.
She gave him a light shove.
Before she could slip through the hedge, Nic wrapped her in a warm, impromptu hug. “Thank you again, Fly.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, it’d be a shame if her father did kill you. Helen seems rather fond of you.”
Nic reached for Helen’s hand, and the two of them followed Dragonfly out of the hidden hollow. Once they reached the road again and Dragonfly had picked up her cake pan, brushing leaves from her skirt, Helen spoke softly.
“Darling, why don’t you go on ahead to your friends’? I’ll walk the rest of the way with Dragonfly.”
Nic hesitated, his fingers tightening around hers like he feared she might vanish if he let go.
“The trail’s easy from here,” Dragonfly said, trying to sound casual. “We’ll be fine.”
He didn’t move right away. His face tensed—caught between wanting to linger and knowing he should go. Then, after a moment, he turned to Helen. They wrapped their arms around each other’s waists and began murmuring their goodbyes like no one else was standing there.
“I have to work in the morning,” Nic said.
“I have dance class in the afternoon,” Helen replied.
“I wish I could watch you dance.”
“You know you’re not allowed in the glass hall anymore!”
“Then I’ll wait in the square. Come find me when you’re done.”
And then he kissed her. Long. Soft. Like they were the only two people in the world.
Dragonfly turned away, her cheeks heating again. She didn’t want to intrude—but more than that, she didn’t want to feel anything about it. The way they clung to each other, as if saying goodbye for a year instead of a few hours—how could anyone need that much from someone else?
Seconds ticked by. Love, it seemed, demanded a great deal of everyone’s time—especially the bystanders.
She was about to clear her throat, but Helen finally pulled away and hurried to catch up. Dragonfly glanced back. Nic was already disappearing between the trees.
She turned to Helen. “Where do you live?”
"Past the stream, right over the little footbridge. You live in the village circle, right?"
The girls set off for home side by side. Dragonfly nodded. "My sister and I live in the loft above my aunt’s shop.”
"Oh, I do like your aunt's shop. She makes the nicest boots. These are hers." Helen paused and shook her foot.
"My aunt says your parents are her best customers.”
Helen giggled. "Yes, my mother is very fond of shoes, and she ordered this pair for my coming of age."
They walked slowly along the trail, the hush of the woods settling around them. Dragonfly balanced the cake pan carefully, mindful not to lose any berries to gravity’s greedy tug. She kept sneaking glances at Helen.
Once, they’d played together—tea parties in gardens with the other village girls. That felt like a lifetime ago. These days, they moved in different worlds. Helen belonged to banquets and dance cards and parlor songs. Dragonfly belonged to dirt under her nails and pine needles in her apron.