“Okay,” I said quietly. “Thank you.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Okay?”
“For now,” I added. “I reserve the right to panic about this later.”
A corner of his mouth curved. “Fair.”
I exhaled, the tension easing just a fraction. “Aggie’s going to knit you a sweater, you know.”
“I’ve accepted my fate,” he said solemnly. “Good thing I’m fond of high-quality knitwear. You’ve met my gram. She keeps me well supplied. I’m always ready to add to my cardigan collection.”
I laughed despite myself. And then I caught myself looking at the window and felt the unease stir again, low and insistent. But beneath it, something more. Something that felt like possibility.
“I’m, um, going to leave you to it. I’m tired.”
“Okay. Later, Becca.”
“Yeah, later.”
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a long moment—just breathing.
Levi’s presence was quiet and steady. I knew Aggie was already winding down and knitting inside hers. The world was still turning.
I slipped out of my jacket and set my bag down, my eyes drifting to the window that now looked oddly framed by another set of panes directly beside it. My jaw loosened, slowly, unwillingly. I’d half-expected the trailer to feel different. Violated, or emptied out, or smaller than before.
But it was still my trailer. Crooked blinds. My stack of books on the table. The mug I’d left on the counter yesterday morning—still there, handle pointing the same direction. The porch light was on. Matt must have replaced the bulb while he was checking the locks.
I let out a sigh when someone knocked on the door, light and brief.
I crossed to it. Through the narrow window, the white hair, the yellow cardigan, the flashlight already switched off in one hand. I opened the door.
“Just checking on you, honey,” Aggie said. Not a question.
“All good,” I said. “Matt went through everything.”
She nodded, looking past me into the trailer with the same calm sweep she gave the whole campground on her evening rounds. Taking stock. Finding it satisfactory.
“Good thing your brother keeps such good company. Nice to have a firefighter like Levi on the campground, don’t you think?”
My throat tightened slightly, but she was already turning away.
“Get some sleep, sweetheart.”
And then she was gone, heading back to her Airstream like she hadn’t just rearranged the air in the room.
I stood in the doorway a little longer than necessary.
Through the narrow gap between our trailers, a light was on in Levi’s window.
The porch light was on and working. Aggie was twenty feet away. I spun, taking in my space, and for the first time in two weeks, I didn’t check the locks twice.
I picked up my phone.
Matt said he was still at the station. If anyone could make sense of the quiet that felt heavy, it was him.
I opened Messages.
Me: Made it inside. Levi is here. You sure everything is okay?
