They tease me, but I can tell they do actually care about my instructions and what I want for the garden, which feels good. It feels good to be able to be silly and a little bossy and not get told that I’m overstepping or asking for too much.
Lincoln goes to move something, and I sigh and go to stop him because it’s one of the plants I said not to touch. Before I can, a little voice goes, “Linc—” and then cuts off hoarsely.
My head snaps around to look at Cora, and all of us freeze. Even Cora looks shocked, like she can’t believe the word came out of her mouth.
She blinks and then says it again, like she’s testing to see if she even can.
Tears well in my eyes and I clap a hand over my mouth.
Lincoln is staring at her, his eyes wide, and no one seems to want to move or breathe, in case it breaks the spell of what’s happening here.
Cora looks to Cash, her little face screwed up in concentration. “Cash,” she says slowly, like she’s hesitating. But it’s clear. It’s so clear and perfect.
She looks shy afterward, like she’s not sure from our reactions if she did something wrong or not. That kicks me out of my daze, and I pull her to me, hugging her tight and kissing the top of her head.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” I tell her wetly. “I’m so proud of you.”
No one tries to force her to say anything else, but the Alphas’ eyes stray to her as we clean up the tools and garden equipment and head back inside.
I get her cleaned up and ready, and when Lainey shows up to take Cora out for a while, I have to tell her what happened.
Her eyes go wide, and she throws her arms around me, hugging me hard before doing the same to Cora. “This is amazing news, right?” she says. “Of course we love Cora the way she is, but… this is progress.”
I nod. “It really is. Maybe… maybe she’s starting to come back to herself. I didn’t know if it would ever happen.”
“You’ve been so good with her,” Lainey says. “And the men have too. It’s amazing how much children can heal when they’re safe and loved, and they know no one’s going to hurt them.”
I haven’t told Lainey the whole story of why Cora doesn’t talk, but she’s perceptive enough to pick up on the fact that there’s trauma there, while being tactful enough not to ask.
“I’ll let you know if she says anything while she’s with me,” Lainey promises and then takes Cora’s hand, chattering at her all the way to the car.
I watch them go, my heart feeling so full, and then shake myself and go get ready for work.
I’m walking to my car when a flash of movement catches my eye, and I turn to see what it is. There’s a large black crow hopping along the fence, and nothing else out of place.
My stomach knots for a second, but I force myself to breathe through it and relax. It’s nothing more serious than a crow, and we get all kinds of birds and scurrying things out where the men live. It’s fine.
I drive to the bar, feeling a little off, but it’s probably all in my head, so I keep it to myself.
My shift is totally normal. I’m used to the rhythm of it by now, the work and the regulars. I know their drinks, and they know me, greeting me with smiles and thanks. Cash comes in and out of the back, and I stop to chat with him as he does, enduring his teasing with eye rolls and grins.
He leans against the bar at one point, watching as I fill a beer for one of the regulars.
“What?” I ask him. “I’m doing it right.”
“I know you are. Can’t a man just like to watch a beautiful woman pour a beer?”
I make a face, but can’t stop the way the smile grows. “I mean, I guess you can. If you’re weird.”
He rolls his eyes, but his laughter lingers as he makes his way back to the office.
By the end of the night, I’m feeling fine again. The weirdness from earlier is all but forgotten, and I’m tired from the long day, but calm and relaxed.
I take the trash out to the dumpster behind the bar, and this time, my phone is silent. The alley is too, but it hits me that it’s quiet in the wrong way. Like the calm before a storm, and it has me on edge immediately.
Then I hear something, a shuffling sound that has my heart rate climbing and adrenaline spiking in my chest for just a second. I barely breathe as I listen, and then I realize that it’sjust the trash bag settling in the dumpster, sliding down to nestle with the others.
That’s all it can be, but I still stand there, still and trying convince myself that my imagination is playing tricks on me. It’s just old habits taking over. The days of having to be on constant guard are over now, and I should be able to relax, right?