Jasper
Honeybrook Hollow had gone fully quiet. I unlocked the truck and got in, the seat creaking under my weight. I sat for a second before I started the engine, hands resting on the wheel, not quite ready to move yet.
She’d handled herself with Eric. I knew that.
She was clear-headed and capable, and she hadn’t needed me—except that he’d grabbed her wrist, and I kept coming back to that, kept thinking about it and not liking what it looked like from any angle.
More than usual, she’d said, like there was a baseline and tonight had simply exceeded it.
I didn’t know what to do with that except file it somewhere I’d remember it.
I started the engine and pulled out onto the road.
The drive back to the cabin was quiet. No radio—just the low hum of the tires, the occasional rush of air when the road curved near the river, the dark comfortable on both sides.
My knee was tight but manageable. I thought about Cara instead—the way the evening had moved through her, from the careful steadiness behind the counter before she’d stepped forward, to the moment it had caught and she’d stopped needing to think about it and just let herself go for it.
The way she’d looked at the empty room after everyone had gone.
The smile she’d tried to contain over the sister clue and hadn’t quite managed.
My phone buzzed against the console. The screen lit up.
Emmett Harrington.
I let it buzz once more, then picked it up and hit speaker. “Yeah.”
“Damn.” His voice came through clear and familiar and faintly amused. “You always answer like you’re bracing for impact.”
“Most people don’t call twice unless there’s a reason.”
“That’s fair.” A pause, easy and unhurried. “You busy?”
“Driving.”
“Even better. Can’t hang up on me.” I could hear him settling back into whatever chair he was in. “Got something for you. Private job. Pays well. Might involve some travel.”
The road curved, trees pressing in on both sides, and between them the river caught the faint light for a moment—quick and silver and gone.
“I’m not looking,” I said.
“Didn’t say you were. I’m telling you anyway.” He let the silence stretch just long enough. He’d always known exactly how long to wait. “You’re the best option I’ve got. Figured you deserved the heads up. I also have something permanent if you’re interested.”
I watched the road. “I just got back.”
“I know. And now you’re bartending in a small town.” He said it without judgment, which was one of the things I’d always respected about Emmett. “Honeybrook Hollow just wasn’t where I pictured you landing. That’s all.”
“I don’t know where I’m landing yet,” I said. The gravel road came up, and I turned onto it, tires crunching, the cabin appearing through the trees with its single porch light on. “That’s the honest answer.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Call me tomorrow. Or don’t—I’ll call you anyway.”
“I know you will.”
“Stay out of trouble.”
“No promises.”
The line clicked off. I killed the engine and sat there in the quiet, hands loose on the wheel.
Two different directions. Neither of them simple.
I thought about the light in the window above the bookshop.
The hand lifted briefly against the glass.
The three cats sitting in a row on the sill, staring down at me like tiny, unimpressed judges who had already made up their minds.
I grabbed my keys and stepped out into the night.