I hesitate, thinking about Caroline, about the conversation we need to have. But then I push the thought away. Tonight’s not about that. Tonight’s about celebrating a small victory in a town that’s constantly under siege.
“Count me in,” I say, a smile touching my lips. “But I’m buying.”
They laugh, the sound echoing in the quiet street. For a moment, everything feels normal, like we’re just regular firefighters celebrating a job well done. But then I feel the Rift under my feet, a reminder that normal is relative in Willowbrook.
The Hearthlight Tavern is alive tonight, buzzing with the kind of energy that only follows near-disaster. The air smells of spilled beer, woodsmoke, and relief. Soren’s already at the bar, his arm draped around April’s shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She’s leaning into him, laughing at something he just said, her dark hair catching the firelight.
“Look who decided to join the land of the living,” Soren calls out as we approach. “Thought you might turn in early, hero.”
I roll my eyes, but a grin tugs at my lips. “Someone’s got to keep this town from burning down.”
April turns, her smile warm. “We heard about the transformer. That was some quick thinking.”
“All in a day’s work,” I say, though my chest swells with pride. It feels good to be useful, to be part of something that matters again.
Beckett flags down Benny, who’s working the bar like a man possessed. “A round of whatever’s strongest, my good man. And a shot for each of us to start.”
Benny nods, already pouring. “On the house for the heroes of the hour.”
The tavern is packed, bodies pressed close, voices overlapping in a cheerful cacophony. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the walls. For a moment, I allow myself to just be here, to soak in the atmosphere, to feel like I belong.
The shots arrive first—small glasses filled with something amber and potent. We raise them in a silent toast, then throw them back. The liquid burns down my throat, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. It’s exactly what I need.
“Another round?” Beckett asks, already signaling to Benny.
I hold up a hand. “One more for me, then I’m switching to beer.”
“Suit yourself,” he shrugs as Benny slides another shot in front of me.
As I sip my beer, my eyes scan the room, taking in the scene. That’s when I see her.
She’s playing pool in the corner, her movements graceful and precise. She’s got soft curves, pale skin that seems to glow in the dim light, and chestnut hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head. Round glasses perch on her nose, and her gray-blue eyes are focused on the game, a dreamy look in them that makes my heart skip a beat.
It’s been a while since I found a woman attractive. Too long, if I’m being honest with myself. The reminder hits me low and hard, a sudden ache that has nothing to do with the fire or the Rift.
“Who’s that?” I ask, nodding in her direction.
Soren follows my gaze, a knowing smirk on his face. “That’s Celeste Monroe. Works at Evermere Books. Helps with the coven records too. Real quiet type.”
“New in town?” I ask, already making up my mind.
“Few months now,” April confirms. “Keeps to herself mostly. Sweet girl, though.”
I nod, finishing my beer in one long swallow. “Wish me luck.”
The walk to the pool table feels longer than it should, each step heavy with anticipation. She doesn’t notice me at first, too focused on her shot. She lines it up carefully, then executes it with a precision that surprises me. The ball drops into the pocket with a satisfying clink.
“Nice shot,” I say, leaning against the wall nearby.
She startles, turning to face me with wide eyes. “Oh. Thank you.”
“Griffin,” I say, extending a hand. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Celeste,” she replies. She’s barely audible over the tavern’s noise. She takes my hand, her grip gentle, tentative. “Celeste Monroe.”
Her scent hits me then—lavender and old parchment, like a library after a rainstorm. It’s intoxicating.
“Nice to meet you, Celeste Monroe. You play a mean game of pool.”
