Page 55 of The Hitman’s Final Job

Silas makes eye contact with Tess, and they smile at each other like they’re keeping a secret.

For years I invited him to come with Rowan to visit, but he always had a reason not to come. “Maybe next time,” he’d say. Now, under the stars, talking to my friends, it’s like he’s at home. I wonder if he feels it too.

But he sure looks like he belongs here. With me.

The thought sits in my chest like a heavy weight.

“Are you entering any of the competitions?” Silas asks Kai and Atlas.

They laugh. “No way. Gardening isn’t for me,” Atlas says while Kai explains how the Neighbor Stories Airstream is going to be located on the main square so people can record their own messages about the festival.

While Kai tells Silas more about his work, my thoughts drift to the last couple of weeks.

Tess and Clayton visiting more often. Kai and Atlas showing up, knowing they’ll be welcome. David flagging me down outside the café more than usual. The community has been present more than ever. Not that Pine Ridge was ever distant, but there’s a difference between being known in a town and being part of it, and something has shifted.

Some of it is curiosity.

Maybe it’s easier for couples to be friends with couples. Maybe Tess and Clayton find it more natural to come for dinner when there are four of us at the table. Maybe Kai and Atlas find it easier to drop by when they don’t think they’re intruding in my solitary life.

Or maybe it’s simpler than that. Maybe since Silas arrived I’ve been opening up more. Saying yes to things I’d have politely declined before.

Maybe Silas isn’t the reason people are coming.

Maybe I am.

Tess stands up. “Right,” she says. “Clay has an early start tomorrow.” She looks at Clayton, who nods. “Wonderful evening, Vaughn and Silas. The chicken was extraordinary. Atlas, please thank your mom for the cake; I’m going to be pestering her for the recipe.”

Atlas laughs. “I’ll give her the heads-up.”

Kai and Atlas make their excuses too, and after hugs and promises to see each other at the festival, they’re all gone.

We watch all the cars leaving until there’s nothing but the sound of nature, which out here is louder than I ever expected after living for so long in Denver. I’d forgotten how beautifully loud nature is.

The fire has burned down to warm coals, so I pour sand over them, and Silas collects the plates and the coffee cups without being asked. We carry everything inside.

“Let’s deal with the dishes in the morning,” I say, and Silas nods.

Somehow we end up climbing the stairs beside each other. There’s this energy shift between us. I’m not sure what to call it, but it’s the feeling of an evening that was full and warm and is now over. The house is quiet, and there are two of us in it … We reach the top of the stairs. I turn toward my room, and Silas turns toward his.

“Have a good night, Vaughn.”

I turn around and look at him. The air between us crackles like the fire in the pit. That one has been extinguished, but the one burning between us is stoked with every glance, every innocent touch.

“Good night,” I say. “I’d love a good night. There’s just a problem.”

He’s very still.

“What problem?” he asks.

My hands shake, so I clench them.

“The only way I’m going to have a good night,” I say, “is if you’re in my bed with me.”

I hear the words come out of my mouth, and still I can’t quite believe I’ve said them.

Silas crosses the space between us.

I meet him halfway.