Page 24 of Vargan

The truck speeds up, disappearing around the corner. They're planning something. The question is what—and when.

By the time the storm hits in earnest, I've secured the gutter and moved inside to check for leaks. The farmhouse is solid but neglected, evidence of Savvy's struggle to keep up with maintenance while running the diner and raising her brother.

The sound of footsteps on gravel pulls me to the window. Savvy's home earlier than usual for her evening shift. The rain is coming down in sheets now, and she makes a dash to the porch, shoulders hunched against the downpour.

When she enters, she's soaking wet, hair plastered to her face, uniform clinging to her curves in ways that make my mouth go dry.

"You're home early," I say, keeping my distance.

She startles, hand flying to her chest. "I didn't know you were here."

"Fixing the leak in the upstairs bathroom," I explain, gesturing toward the ceiling. "Storm's bad."

"Yeah," she says, dropping her bag on the hall table. "Helen sent me home. Said the diner was dead and I looked exhausted." A flash of lightning illuminates her face, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes. "Which I am."

An uncomfortable silence stretches between us. This is the longest conversation we've had since the kiss, and neither of us seems to know what to do with it.

"I should go," I say, moving toward the door.

"No!" The word bursts from her with surprising force. "I mean—the storm. It's dangerous out there. You should stay until it passes."

As if to punctuate her words, the lights flicker, then go out completely. The house plunges into darkness, the only illumination coming from periodic flashes of lightning through the windows.

"Power's out," Savvy says unnecessarily, her voice small in the sudden silence.

"I'll start a fire," I offer, heading for the living room. "There's wood stacked on the back porch."

Working in near-darkness is no hardship for me—orc vision is built for night. Within minutes, I've got a fire crackling in the old stone fireplace, casting warm light across the living room. Savvy stands in the doorway, still in her wet clothes, arms wrapped around herself.

"You should change," I tell her. "You'll catch cold."

She nods, disappearing upstairs. While she's gone, I raid the kitchen for candles, setting them up around the living room for additional light. By the time she returns in dry clothes—soft-looking pants and an oversized sweater—the room is almost cozy.

"I checked on Willie," she says, coming down the stairs. "He's going to Jacob's again tonight. Seems to be spending more and more time there." She gives a small, humorless laugh. "Probably for the best. This house has been... tense lately."

The guilt hits me square in my chest. I've taken her sanctuary and made it uncomfortable for her. Another reason to finish my bike and leave.

"Thank you," she says, moving closer to the fire. "For this. And for...everything else."

I don't pretend not to understand. "The repairs were nothing."

"It wasn't nothing to me." She sits on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her. After a moment's hesitation, I settle in the armchair across from her. Safer that way.

"Silas says your bike part came in," she says, eyes on the fire. "You'll be leaving soon."

"Yes." The word hangs between us, heavy with unspoken things.

"Where will you go?"

"Mexico, eventually. But I got word today..." I pause, not sure how much to share. "There might be witnesses. To what happened that night. Could mean I don't have to run forever."

Her eyes lift to mine, something like hope flickering in their depths. "That's good. Right?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just delaying the inevitable."

Outside, the storm rages, rain lashing against the windows, wind howling through the trees. Inside, a different kind of storm brews—tension thick enough to touch, desires better left unspoken.

"Why have you been fixing things around here?" Savvy asks suddenly. "You don't owe me anything."

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