Page 26 of Vargan

Chapter Eight

Savvy

The diner is painfully quiet for a Thursday. I've wiped the same spot on the counter three times now, reorganized the syrup bottles twice, and checked my phone more times than I'd like to admit. Anything to keep my mind off what's happening across the street.

Vargan's leaving today.

I know this because I overheard him telling Silas this morning. "Frame bracket's installed," he'd said, voice low but carrying through the open kitchen window. "Should be on the road by sunset."

Sunset. The word had lodged in my chest like a shard of glass.

"Savannah Elizabeth Greene!" Helen's voice cuts through my thoughts. "If you polish that counter any harder, you're going to wear a hole right through it."

I drop the rag, forcing a smile. "Sorry. Just keeping busy."

"On your day off." Helen raises an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. "Instead of, I don't know, being at home where acertain green-skinned biker has been working himself to death fixing things all over your property."

My cheeks heat. "I had inventory to catch up on."

"Bullshit. You're hiding."

The diner is empty except for Old Man Jenkins in the corner booth, half-asleep over his coffee and pie. No one to overhear Helen's bluntness or my discomfort.

"I'm not hiding," I insist, grabbing the ketchup bottles to start marrying them. "I'm being practical."

Helen snorts, sliding onto a stool across from me. "Practical. Right. That's why you're here on your one day off while Romeo is over there working up a sweat."

My hands shake slightly as I unscrew a ketchup cap. "It's not like that."

"Oh? Then what is it like?"

I focus on pouring ketchup, avoiding her eyes. "We kissed. Once. And it was..." I swallow hard, the memory washing over me—his mouth on mine, gentle despite his tusks, his hands so careful yet so strong. "It was wonderful. Then he pulled away."

"Mmhmm. And?"

"And I thought I'd misread him. That it was just a mistake." I move to the next bottle. "But then yesterday, we had this... moment. When the power went out, he built a fire, and it was so warm and cozy. I was so close to just giving in and letting whatever was between us happen."

"But you didn't," Helen says, not a question.

I set the ketchup bottle down harder than necessary. "No. I didn't. Because I looked into his eyes—those kind eyes that have never looked at me with an ounce of anything but respect—and realized how much it's going to hurt to watch him leave. How much worse it would be if I let myself get any closer."

Helen is quiet for a moment, then she reaches across the counter and takes my hands in hers, stopping my nervousfidgeting. "Savvy, honey. Are you blind? Did Royce mess you up so bad you can't recognize a genuine feeling when it's right in front of you?"

I stare at her, stunned by her sudden shift from wariness about Vargan to apparent advocacy. "Wait, you actually like him now? Last week, you were hiding kitchen knives every time he walked in."

Helen has the decency to look a bit chagrined. "I was wrong, okay? I've watched that man look at you like the center of his universe just shifted, and you’re now it. And I've seen how he treats everyone in this town—with respect, even when they don't deserve it." She squeezes my hands. "He's not what I expected."

"Helen—"

"Let me finish. That man, or orc, or whatever the hell he is—he may be just passing through, but he's fixing things only someone who cares would bother with. I've seen how he looks at you when you're not watching, and I'd kill to have someone look at me that way, even if I could only have it for a little while." She leans closer, her eyes fierce with conviction. "It’s better to have love like that for a day than never at all."

Something clicks into place at her words—a realization forming like the first ray of dawn breaking through the darkness. I've spent the last few years protecting my heart by avoiding situations that might hurt it, but all that's done is prevent any chance of healing.

"Oh god," I whisper, the truth hit me hard enough to rock my foundation. "I'm an idiot."

Helen pats my hand. "Yes, you are. But you're my idiot, and it's not too late to fix this."

I stare at her, heart racing. "What if it’s too late?"

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