Page 34 of Second Chance with the Half-Elf
The harbor’s already buzzing when I get there.
Vendors shouting, gulls screaming bloody murder overhead, the thrum of generators kicking up dust from the gravel lot. Rowan’s halfway through yelling at a teenager trying to string fairy lights from a beam with painter’s tape when I walk up.
“You want those to hold through a sea breeze?” she snaps. “That’s wishful thinking, not engineering.”
The kid mutters an apology and scurries off.
She turns and sees me.
Pauses.
“Rough night?” she asks, voice gentler than usual.
I grunt. “Didn’t sleep much.”
“Didn’t look like you were trying to when you left here yesterday.”
I shoot her a look. She lifts her palms like she’s innocent.
“Not judging,” she says. “Just observing.”
I ignore that and start checking the lantern rig wiring.
She leans a hip against the crate beside me. “You see her?”
“Briefly,” I say, voice low.
Rowan narrows her eyes. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.”
I yank the cord a little harder than I need to. “She was gone before sunrise. Didn’t leave a note.”
Rowan exhales slowly. “Evie’s got a PhD in fleeing when shit gets real.”
“Yeah, well, maybe she should apply for tenure,” I mutter.
She watches me for a beat. “You know she’s thinking about selling the house.”
I still.
The breath I was halfway through taking catches and sticks in my throat like bone.
“What?”
Rowan nods. “She asked Liara for a contractor rec. Said she might need to get the place prepped for market.”
My jaw clenches. “She didn’t mention that.”
“She wouldn’t. Not if she thought it might make you ask her to stay.”
“She thinks I’d ask her to stay?”
Rowan gives me alook. “Wouldn’t you?”
My mouth opens. Then shuts.
