The wordsfollow up on whatform on my tongue. Die there. Because she doesn't owe me an itinerary, and asking would reduce her to something requiring my permission rather than someone making her own choices.
"Alright." The word costs me more effort than it should. "Call if you need anything."
She pauses, studies my face with the sharp attention that misses nothing. "You're holding your breath."
"Am I?" I force myself to exhale, to loosen the death grip on ceramic. "Old habits."
"The kind where you trail three steps behind me, scanning for threats that probably don't exist?"
"Those would be the ones." I say honestly. "I'm working on it."
"Good." She leans down, kisses me briefly but publicly. "Because I'm perfectly capable of walking two blocks to the library without an escort."
The kiss draws more attention, whispers rippling through the diner like wind through leaves. If this had happened just a year ago, I would have calculated the social cost, measured the exposure. Now I just watch her leave, fighting the urge to follow.
My phone buzzes. Text from Rowan:Movement confirmed near Henderson property. Want backup on patrol?
I type back:Meet me at the station in twenty.Then I force myself to sit for another ten minutes, finishing my coffee like a normal person whose mate can handle herself in broad daylight.
When I finally stand, Janet catches my eye.
"She's not what people expected," she says, wiping down the counter with unnecessary vigor.
"Meaning?"
"When word got out about you two... some folks thought she'd be different. Quieter, maybe. More..." She gestures vaguely.
"More what?"
"Traditional, I guess. Someone who'd fade into the background, let you handle everything." She shrugs. "She doesn't fade much, does she?"
"No." The pride in my voice surprises me. "She doesn't fade at all."
Outside, I resist the automatic scan for Ellie's location. She said the library. I trust her to get there safely. Trust her to handle whatever conversation she's planning, whatever questions she needs to ask.
The effort is exhausting. Like holding a new position that uses muscles I've never properly developed.
I watchEllie pack her laptop with methodical precision. I admit it. I finally caved after meeting with Rowan and stopped by the library, purely routine of course. The library is on my patrol route after all.
You know you’re completely full of shit, right?
She smirked when she noticed my entry, completely on to me.
"Walk you home?"
"I can manage three blocks, Sheriff." But she's already slinging her bag over her shoulder, falling into step as we exit into the crisp evening. “Important police business at the library tonight?”
This has become our rhythm. Not desperate urgency, but something steadier. I don't manufacture reasons to be near her anymore.
A chuckle is my only answer.
"Productive afternoon?" I ask as we amble down Main Street.
"Three more interviews next week. The Taylors finally agreed to talk." She adjusts her bag strap—a gesture meaning she's processing something significant. "
"In other news, the council meeting ran long. Henderson property discussion."
"And?"