CHAPTER 18
1461 Words
The Dragon Book Signing.
Saturday, 3:12 p.m.
Six weeks after the sidewalk.
The bookstore is transformed.
String lights crisscross the ceiling like a low sky of stars.
A ten-foot vinyl banner of the little purple dragon hangs above the register, its anxious eyes glowing under the spotlights.
The kids’ section has been cleared for rows of tiny chairs and a reading rug the color of dragon scales.
Every copy of The Dragon Who Was Afraid to Burn is sold out except the hundred signed copies stacked on the events table like bright ammunition.
Lena is everywhere and nowhere.
She spent the morning in the back office with Priya, triple-checking the signing line plan, the microphone levels, the emergency stash of tissues (because apparently half the parents cry when their kids meet the illustrator who made fear feel safe).
She is wearing a dark green wrap dress and the broken-heart Band-Aid pin Juno gave her, now permanently affixed to the inside of the collar where only she can see it.
She hasn’t seen Eli yet.
He’s due at 3:30.
Maya is coming with him (Lena asked Priya to invite her; it felt like the adult thing to do).
Juno finds her at 3:15 hiding behind the poetry shelves, pretending to alphabetize.
“Breathe, babe,” Juno whispers, squeezing her hand. “You’ve got this. Dragon energy only.”
Lena manages a shaky laugh. “I feel like I’m about to walk into my own funeral, but everyone’s happy about it.”
“That’s just growth,” Juno says sagely. “Also, I spiked your water bottle with a little CBD, so you’re welcome.”
Lena snorts. “You did not.”
“Check the label. It says ‘calm the f— down.’”
The bell above the door jingles.
Lena’s heart stops.
It’s him.
Eli steps inside carrying a cardboard box of art prints, Maya right behind him with a smaller box and the kind of smile that used to belong to sunrises.
He looks… different.
Not in a dramatic movie-makeover way.
Just rested. Lighter. Like someone finally took the piano off his back.
His hair is shorter, the scar on his eyebrow catching the light.
He’s wearing the black button-down from their first date (the one Maya picked out) and dark jeans that fit like they were made for the man he’s becoming.
Their eyes meet across the crowded floor.
For a second everything else disappears.
He smiles (small, careful, warm).
Lena smiles back (smaller, careful, warmer).
Maya spots her next, waves like nothing is weird, like they’re all just old friends who never shattered.
Lena walks over on legs that feel borrowed.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi,” Eli answers, voice soft.
Maya sets her box down and immediately hugs Lena (tight, real, no hesitation).
“You look incredible,” she whispers into Lena’s hair. “Thank you for doing this.”
Lena hugs back. “Thank you for trusting me with it.”
Priya appears like a benevolent wizard. “Okay, lovebirds and ex-lovebirds, let’s get this dragon in the air. Eli, signing table is ready. Lena, you’re on crowd control and emotional support. Juno, you’re on glitter cannon.”
Juno salutes. “Copy that, captain.”
They move into position.
The event starts at 4:00 sharp.
The store is packed (standing room only, line out the door).
Kids in dragon onesies, parents clutching tissues, a few adults who admit they bought the book for themselves because “sometimes you’re thirty-two and still scared to burn.”
Eli takes the microphone first.
He thanks the store, the author (who’s on Zoom from New Zealand), the kids, the parents.
Then he looks straight at Lena, standing by the register.
“And Lena Vale,” he says, voice steady, “who believed in this dragon before anyone else did, and who made today possible even when it was hard. Thank you.”
The room applauds.
Lena’s eyes fill, but she doesn’t hide it.
The reading begins.
Eli reads the book aloud in a voice that makes grown adults cry (low, gentle, like he’s telling each kid personally that it’s okay to be afraid).
When he gets to the page where the dragon finally breathes fire (small, shaky, but real), a little boy in the front row stands up and roars.
The whole room roars back.
Lena laughs through tears.
After the reading comes the signing.
The line is endless.
Eli signs, sketches tiny dragons in the front of every book, asks each kid their name and what they’re scared of, then writes something personal on the title page.
Maya stands beside him, handing him new Sharpies, taking photos, occasionally leaning down to kiss his temple when she thinks no one’s watching.
Lena watches anyway.
It hurts in the way a healed bone aches before rain (dull, familiar, no longer sharp enough to cripple).
At 6:12 p.m. the last kid leaves clutching their book like gold.
The store is quiet except for the hum of the lights and the soft clink of Juno restocking.
Eli stands, stretches, rolls his neck.
Maya is talking to Priya about ordering more prints.
He walks over to Lena, who’s stacking chairs with mechanical precision.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
They stand there for a moment.
“You did an incredible job,” he says. “The kids… they’ll remember this forever.”
“So will I,” she answers.
He nods toward the banner. “Still can’t believe this is real.”
“I always knew it would be,” she says, and it’s true.
Another beat.
“I read your message,” he says quietly. “The one from the sidewalk night.”
She flinches.
“I didn’t reply because I didn’t know how,” he continues. “But I saw it. And I want you to know… I’m glad you’re okay. I’m glad you’re here.”
Lena swallows. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
He smiles, and it reaches his eyes in a way it hasn’t in years.
“I really am.”
Maya appears at his side, slips her hand into his.
“We’re heading out for dinner with the author on Zoom,” she says. “You should come.”
Lena blinks.
Maya shrugs. “There’s room. And you’re part of why this happened.”
Lena hesitates.
Juno materializes like a chaotic guardian angel. “She’s coming. I’m driving. I’ve already kidn*pped her purse.”
Lena laughs, startled. “I—okay.”
Dinner is at a tiny Korean place around the corner.
The five of them crowd into a corner booth (Eli, Maya, Lena, Juno, Priya).
They order too much food, pass banchan like family, laugh until their sides hurt when Juno tells the story of the time she accidentally set a display on fire with a glitter cannon.
At one point Eli reaches for the kimchi and his sleeve rides up, revealing a new tattoo on his inner forearm: a tiny purple dragon breathing a single, perfect flame.
Lena notices.
He notices her noticing.
“It’s for the kids who are still scared,” he says quietly, across the table. “And for the ones who helped me stop being scared.”
Lena’s eyes fill again.
Maya sees the tattoo, kisses the inside of his wrist without a word.
Later, when they’re all stuffed and a little drunk on soju, Priya raises her glass.
“To dragons who learned to burn,” she says.
They drink.
Outside, the night is warm.
They stand on the sidewalk saying goodbyes that don’t feel like goodbyes anymore.
Maya hugs Lena tight. “Text me tomorrow. Brunch. No excuses.”
“I will,” Lena promises.
Eli hugs her last.
It’s careful, but not fragile.
His arms around her feel like the end of a very long story and the beginning of a new one.
“Thank you,” he whispers into her hair.
“Thank you,” she whispers back.
They pull apart.
Juno links arms with Lena. “Come on, survivor. I’m driving you home before you start crying in the street and ruin my reputation as a chaos goblin.”
Lena laughs, waves one last time as Eli and Maya walk away hand in hand.
She watches them go.
This time, she doesn’t look away until they’re out of sight.
In the car, Juno glances over.
“You okay?”
Lena thinks about it.
“Yeah,” she says, and means it. “I really am.”
She rolls down the window, lets the summer air hit her face, and for the first time in her adult life, the night feels wide open.
End of chapter eighteen.
The dragons learned to burn.
And everyone lived
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