The tavern had settled back into its usual rhythm by mid afternoon — glasses clinking, the low hum of conversation, someone arguing with the jukebox about its song selection. Willow moved behind the bar with Ava and Meredith, the three of them falling into the easy choreography they'd built over the past few weeks.
Except Cole wasn't talking.
That alone was strange enough to notice. Cole hadn't gone thirty seconds without saying something ridiculous since the day he'd walked through the door, and now he was moving between tables, clearing glasses, quiet as a held breath.
He kept catching pieces of conversation. Two customers near the window, heads bent together, whispering. Someone said Nathaniel's name. Someone else said, low and careless, "Heard she's still thinking about selling."
W
