Page 49 of Fetch Me A Mate
Work. Focus on work. Fix what could be fixed while he still could.
The stair railing had been wobbling for weeks, one of those minor repairs that kept getting pushed aside for more urgent projects. Now Rowan attacked it with single-minded intensity, tightening bolts and reinforcing joints like the inn's structural integrity depended on this one piece of hardware.
"You're back."
Diana's voice made him look up from the railing. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, clipboard in hand, watching him with those amber eyes that saw too much.
"Had work to finish," he said, returning attention to the bolts. "Couldn't leave things half-done."
"No, you couldn't." She climbed the stairs slowly, each step deliberate. "How are you, Rowan?"
"Fine."
"Really?"
He looked at her then. She seemed calmer than yesterday morning, more centered. Like she'd found her footing again after he'd knocked her world sideways with his rejection.
"You seem different," he said instead of answering.
"I've had a productive morning. Gathered some community support for a project I'm working on." She held up the clipboard, pages covered in signatures. "Actually, I was hoping you'd take a look at this."
She handed him the papers. Names filled every line, familiar signatures. Twyla's flourishing script, Edgar's careful printing, Tom Brewster's photographer's precision.
"What is it?"
"Protection ward. Community-based magic that makes it even harder for unwelcome visitors to cause trouble on protected ground."
Rowan's wolf went perfectly still. She knew. Somehow, she'd figured out enough to take action.
"Diana."
"I'm not asking for explanations," she said quietly. "I'm asking if you want to be part of the solution."
At the bottom of the page, his name was written in her careful handwriting. Not his signature, just his name, holding a place for him to claim if he chose.
"You can't protect the inn from pack politics with signatures and good intentions."
"Why?" Diana's voice carried quiet steel. "This community chose to stand behind this place. Behind me. Behind the idea that some things are worth defending."
"And if that's not enough?"
"Then at least I tried something other than running away."
The words hit like a slap. Rowan set down his hammer and faced her directly.
"Is that what you think I'm doing? Running away?"
"Aren't you?" Diana stepped closer, close enough that he detected smell vanilla and determination. "Yesterday morning you pushed me away like I meant nothing to you. Like everything we've built here was just temporary convenience."
"I was trying to protect you."
"From what?"
Rowan could tell her everything - Sarah's escape, the pack's ultimatum, the choice between her safety and innocent lives.Could drag her into pack politics and supernatural vendettas that would destroy everything she'd worked to build.
Or he could sign the paper and pretend community magic could stop what was coming for them.
"From me," he said finally. "From the kind of trouble that follows me around."
