He grins. “I’m committed.”
“Yeah,” Beck mutters. “To being annoying.”
Ghost nods. “He’s got a point, though.”
“Wow, Ghost.” I stare at him. “You piling on too?”
He shrugs. “You look tired.”
“I am. And I need you all to mind your business.”
“Not how this works,” Colt says lightly. “We’rebonded.”
From across the table, Beck’s chair scrapes against the floor. “If you’re all done solving each other’s personal lives, we’ve got equipment checks that still need signing off.”
Fletch spreads his hands. “I’ve done mine.”
“Then you can help someone who hasn’t.”
“This feels like a never-ending list of chores.” He points a finger at Beck. “Divvied out by our evil stepmother.”
“Yeah, yeah, off you go, Cinderella.”
My mouth quirks, and I shake my head as I follow the crew down to the bay.
Magical fixes don’t exist, not for this. But Elle needs more than a father running on fumes and a village held together by favors.
Sooner or later, I’ll have to figure something out.
Chapter two
Sparkly heels are a practical life choice
Penny
The train slows gradually as it pulls into the station, the brakes kicking in with a low grind that rumbles through the carriage floor.
I’m already reaching for my bag before it stops entirely, pulling it down from the rack and slinging the strap over my shoulder as the train jolts forward that last little bit. Around me, people move at an unhurried pace. No one is rushing or pushing for the doors like they might miss their chance if they don’t get there first.
Once the doors slide open with a hiss, the cold air hits immediately. It’s sharp enough to make me blink as I step down onto the platform, but somehow it feels cleaner than the citycold. It doesn’t cling or feel like it’s trying to get under my skin the way it does in Toronto.
“Okay,” I mumble to myself as my boots crunch lightly against the frozen platform. “I can work with cold.”
Probably.
Maybe.
I adjust the strap of my bag and take a few more steps away from the train, my eyes moving over the platform to take it in properly for the first time.
There’s a handful of people grabbing their things and moving on like they’ve got time to spare. A guy a few steps ahead of me drags a suitcase that keeps catching in the slush, and someone further down the platform laughs easily, like they’ve got no worries in the world. No one waiting to ruin their day or tell them they’re not good enough, or they’re the reason for some sort of inconvenience.
I glance down at my boots, with a scuff already marking the toe, and let a breath out. No one knows me here. I don’t have to pretend, or brace for a sideways comment or a pointed stare that says I’ve failed at something I didn’t even know I was being measured for.
My gaze moves over the platform more casually this time. There’s a sign bolted to the wall that readsMAPLEWOOD, sitting just slightly crooked as though whoever put it up decided that was close enough.
“Yeah.” A quiet laugh escapes me. “I like it here already.”
It feels normal. Welcoming somehow, despite the cold. I’m not used to that.
