Page 59 of Click of Fate

Before she can say more, a voice calls down the hallway. “Lilly, did you hide my other shoe again?”

Harper snorts. “And that would be your date.”

I watch as she walks off to locate the rogue footwear, but not before she tosses one more smile over her shoulder.

“She’s worth the trouble,” she says.

And somehow, I know I’ve just made an ally.

Stella slides into the passenger seat with a muttered, “Sorry for the delay. Shoe crisis.”

She’s breathless, flushed from rushing, and still managing to look like she didn’t even try. Hair half up, mascara smudged just enough to know she’s human.

“Totally worth the wait,” I say, and mean it.

She doesn’t roll her eyes, but it’s close. “Flattery won’t get you out of awkward dinner conversation.”

“Wasn’t trying to,” I say as I pull away from the curb. “But I’ll keep it in my back pocket just in case.”

She smiles at that, quiet but real. Her shoulders loosen, and the tension that had been riding shotgun with her melts a little into the seat.

A few blocks pass in silence. Easy. Companionable. Like this isn’t our first time doing this—like it could be one of many.

“She’s something else,” I say, nodding back toward the house.

“Who, Harper or Lilly?” she asks.

“Both. But I meant Harper. I like her.”

“She liked you, too,” Stella replies, glancing sideways. “Which is rare. You got the stamp of approval.”

“Good. I liked her vibe. Protective, but not overbearing.”

“She’s been that way since we were kids,” Stella says with a small laugh. “Even though she’s younger than me.”

“She looked at me like she was deciding if I was a threat.”

“And?”

“I think I passed.”

A beat.

“I think you did, too,” Stella says softly, then looks out the window like she didn’t just say something huge.

I let the moment stretch. Let the silence say everything we’re not quite ready to say out loud.

“Lilly’s awesome, by the way,” I offer, just to break it gently. “She’s got this light about her. Sharp, funny… fearless.”

“Yeah,” she says, smiling to herself. “She’s kind of the reason I haven’t run yet.”

That word—yet—echoes more than I want it to.

But I don’t push.

Not tonight.

We end up at a place called Blue Willow—a quiet little bistro tucked into a side street just off College Ave. Not flashy. Not loud. Brick walls, candlelight, the scent of lemon and rosemary in the air.

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