Kassi once told me the hardest part of doing the right thing was not knowing if it would ever pay off. She said you had to do it anyway, because the world didn't get better by staying quiet.
She was right.
And I'll be damned if I stay quiet now.
Somewhere out there, she's sitting with her daughter, thinking she's lost everything. I want to tell her she hasn't lost me. Not yet. Not ever.
The wind rushes through the cab, lifting the edge of my hat. I tighten my grip on the wheel.
"I'm coming, sweetheart," I say under my breath. "Just hold on."
The road stretches ahead, long and empty, but for the first time since she left, it feels like it's leading somewhere that matters.
Not away from home.
Toward it.
Chapter 29
Kassi
The first few days at the library move slowly, as if the air itself is deciding whether it's ready to let me belong.
Candy showed me everything on the first day—the card system, the online catalog, how to fix a barcode that won't scan, when to waive late fees, and more. It should be simple, routine, the kind of job that lets your heart rest. But every time someone walks in, my shoulders tighten before I can stop them.
Most folks are polite, and some even smile. But a few give me that look, the one that says they know exactly who I used to work for. The developers. The ones trying to tear the town apart.
I catch whispers when I think they don't know I'm listening.
"She used to be with them."
"Can't believe Candy hired her."
"I'd keep her away from the town records, just in case."
It's never loud, never direct. Just enough to sink under my skin with splinters I can't pull free.
Candy doesn't let it shake her. She keeps her head high, greeting every person the same as always, voice calm and warm, praising how I'm helping her out and talking me up to everyone.
By lunchtime, she brings me a mug of coffee and sets it down beside the return bin. "You're doing well, honey."
I manage a small smile. "You don't have to say that."
"I don't say anything I don't mean," she answers, leaning a hip against the desk. "They'll come around."
I shake my head. "I don't think they will. Not after what they think I did."
Candy's gaze softens. "You didn't do what they think. You did the opposite. That's the truth, and the truth has a way of surfacing. It just takes longer than gossip."
Her certainty should make me feel better. It almost does. But there's a heaviness in me that doesn't lift. "They'll never believe Iwas trying to help. Not until Asher tells them himself, and that's not going to happen."
Candy studies me for a moment, quiet and knowing. "You still love him."
The words land in my chest, loosening a sigh I've been holding for days. "Does it matter?"
"It always matters," she says. "And for what it's worth, I don't think that story is finished yet."
I look down at the stack of returns waiting for reshelving. "It is. He has his family, his land. He needs to keep that whole. I can't be the reason it falls apart."