Page 26 of Welded Defender
I arch a brow. “What?”
“Don’t ‘what’ me.”
I sigh, already bracing. “What are you fishing for?”
“Fishing?” Her grin is pure trouble. “Please. I already know. Just wanted to see you squirm.”
“Nova—”
“Relax, I’m not gonna grill you.” She leans back against the railing, eyes bright. “I just wanted to say… she looks comfortable. With you. That’s not nothing.”
The words hit somewhere deep. I cross my arms, forcing my voice steady. “She’s been through hell. Comfortable’s all I’m aiming for.”
“And maybe more,” Nova adds softly, but there’s no edge to it. Just truth.
I look away, out toward the tree line. Snow still clings stubbornly to the pines. “She needs space.”
“She does,” Nova agrees. “But space doesn’t mean distance. You’ve already shown her she can lean on you without you taking over. That’s rare.”
Her words settle in my chest, heavy but not unwelcome.
Nova bumps my arm lightly with her shoulder, grin returning. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your grease and grumbling. Just… don’t overthink it, big brother. If she’s smiling around you, that’s already more than most men manage.”
I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. “You done?”
“For now.” She kisses my cheek, then heads down the steps. “Don’t mess it up.”
When her car pulls onto the street, I release a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Comfortable. The word echoes in my head like a lifeline thrown into dark water.
It should feel simple, but it doesn’t. Instead, it feels like standing at the edge of a cliff, unable to see how far the drop goes.
And for the first time in a long while, I want to leap.
CHAPTER 15
Marcy
The apartment feels less borrowed now. A thrifted lamp glows soft and golden in the corner, the blanket I found folded neatly across the back of the couch. Small things, but when I wake up and see them, I don’t feel quite so much like a squatter in my own life.
It’s been two days since Nova dragged me away from work and declared we were going shopping whether I liked it or not. She’d been right, of course. Walking out of the thrift store with mismatched mugs, a faded quilt, and a stack of cheap frames made me feel... normal. Like I was allowed to want things again.
Now it’s late afternoon, and the garage is winding down. I’m sitting behind the counter with the day’s intake forms spread around me when the bell over the door jingles.
“Don’t say I never do anything for you,” Nova declares, striding in with cheeks pink from the cold and a mischievous glint in her eye.
Landon doesn’t even look up from where he’s hunched over his clipboard. “You never do anything for me,” he deadpans.
She rolls her eyes and hops onto the counter beside my stack of forms. “Good thing I’m not here for you, then.” She turns to me, grin widening. “So. The winter fair. You’re coming.”
I blink at her. “The what?”
“The fair,” Wes chimes in from the bay, poking his head through the doorway like he’s been eavesdropping—which he definitely has. “You know, the reason for all those banners hanging up and down main street.”
I’d seen the banners but hadn’t thought much of them. Events happened constantly in the city, and I never attended half of them. But I guess small towns work differently.
“Where you eat funnel cakes until you regret your life choices,” Nova adds, kicking her heels against the counter.
“I don’t know...” My instinctive protest fizzles when Nova arches a brow.
