Page 54 of Second Chance with the Half-Elf
His voice is low. Steady. “Don’t do it alone.”
My heart is a riot in my chest.
“I keep waiting for the part where this goes sideways,” I whisper.
“Maybe it won’t.”
“Maybe it will.”
“Then we hold on tighter.”
I turn to face him.
He’s already looking at me.
The air crackles.
For a second, I think—maybe. Maybe I’ll lean in. Maybe he will.
Then his hand brushes mine, just barely, fingers curling slow until our pinkies hook.
And somehow that’s worse.
I don’t move.
Neither does he.
The moment stretches, fragile as sea glass.
Then I exhale.
“You should walk me home,” I say.
His voice rumbles low. “Already am.”
We don’t speak much as we head down the last stretch.
Just the sound of waves. Our footsteps.
Our hands brush once more.
But neither of us reaches.
Not yet.
But damn if it doesn’t feel close.
Close enough to taste.
CHAPTER 20
AERON
The town council chamber reeks of mildew and old ink, and the buzz of the overhead lights grates on my last nerve. There’s a stack of maps on the table near the window—weathered parchment edges curling like the town itself, fraying at every seam but still standing. Councilor Dimmitt gestures toward the newest one, jabbing his pen so hard it nearly tears through.
“So, Harbor Master Thalen, are we clear on what’s at stake if you delay this Eastern Reach contract again?”
The man’s voice cuts through the still air like a cracked buoy bell—persistent and aggravating. I keep my stance steady, arms crossed, boots planted. Behind me, Drokhaz leans in the doorway, silent and watchful, the only one in this damn room who still knows how to listen without posturing.
