Page 7 of Found by the Pack
I nod slowly instead. “Do you know what you’re supposed to paint?”
She smiles without teeth, her eyes flicking toward the window where rain still streaks down in tired sheets. “No idea. I’ll need to walk the town first. Feel it out. I never start with a plan—I just wait until the place tells me what it wants.”
I’m just about to offer—stupidly, impulsively—to show her around myself when the alarm on my phone starts to chime.
Shit. The softbreep-breepcuts straight through the moment like a dull blade. I wince and fumble to silence it.
“Sorry,” I mutter, digging it out of my pocket.
She raises a brow. “You got somewhere you need to be?”
I hesitate. “Yeah. I’ve got a dog waiting for me.”
“A dog?”
“Yeah, Gus. I haven’t walked him today and he’s a golden retriever with lots of energy, so… I kind of have to.”
Sadie stands, stretching out of the chair, still swimming in my oversized shirt. Her hoodie dangles damp from the fireplace ledge, forgotten for now. “Well, then I’ll get out of your hair.”
No. Don’t leave yet.
I step forward quickly. “It’s a little unorthodox, but I could leave you the keys.”
She blinks. “What?”
“I’ve been here since four. Couldn’t sleep, figured I’d get some work done. But it’s been hours, and I need to go home—eat, walk my dog. You can stay until Jake gets in. He’s usually there by eight.”
Her brows lift. “You trust me not to steal anything?”
“I honestly doubt there’s anything in here worth stealing.”
She laughs, and the sound undoes something in my chest. It’s the kind of laugh that fills a space. Not loud, but full-bodied. Real. Like her.
“I mean,” I say, pushing a hand through my hair, “you could get me fired, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t. But yeah. Warmer than your truck, right?”
“Definitely warmer,” she admits, arms folded against her chest. “You sure? I don’t want to be the weird outsider breaking into the library on day one.”
“You won’t be,” I promise. “We’ve got a few volunteer librarians. One of them, Millie, might come in this morning. If she’s not here when you need to go, just lock up and leave the keys at City Hall. They’ll know what to do.”
She looks down at the cocoa mug in her hands, then up at me again, searching for something in my expression. Trust, maybe. Or confirmation that I’m not messing with her.
“This town’s gotta be nice after all,” she murmurs. “Strangers giving out keys and cocoa and power banks.”
I shrug. “We try.”
She grins. “Thanks, Shepard.”
My name in her mouth sounds different. Like it’s something new she’s still trying on.
I force myself to smile back. “I’ll see you around, Sadie.”
She nods. I grab my coat from the hook and step out into the gray, the rain cooling the flush that’s been building beneath my collar since she walked in.
My car groans when I slide behind the wheel. The heater squeals before warm air sputters out, fogging the windows. I let it run for a second before shifting into gear.
The sky’s still the color of unwashed cotton, and the streets are mostly empty. I drive past the familiar storefronts—Wren’s Antiques, the old barbershop, the empty lot where the farmer’s market sets up in summer—and try to shake the residual pull in my chest.
What the hell was that?
