Page 37 of Easy, Tiger

"Nobody's going to hurt you."

"You can't promise that."

"Watch me." The conviction in his voice grounds me despite the circumstances. "Did you notice anything else? Footprints outside, disturbed brush?"

His question strikes me as oddly specific. Before I can ask why, he is already moving toward the window, mapping the ground beyond the glass with the hushed absorption of someone accustomed to tracking.

"Pack your supplies," Nolan says, his tone brooking no argument. "You're staying in town for a few hours while I investigate."

"I'm not running away from my own cabin."

"It's the smart move for right now." He moves to the window again, scouting the tree line with that unsettling alertness. "I need to check the perimeter, inspect for tracks, see what else they might have disturbed. Can't do that properly with you here."

The logic makes sense, but something nags at me. "How did you know to come check on me now?"

His shoulders tense almost imperceptibly. "Saw your truck."

"From your workshop? That's nearly two miles through dense forest."

"Remember, I was working on the ridge road for a lumber delivery." The answer comes too quickly and too practiced. "Does it really matter right now? Someone violated your space, Halsey. Let me figure out who."

I want to pursue the issue, but the memory of those rifled pages makes my skin crawl. "Fine, but I refuse to hide in some hotel room like a victim."

"Library's open until eight. It's quiet and safe." He dwells on every motion, eyes following me stuffing my art supplies into my bag with the same intensity he'd applied to examining the disturbed portfolio. "Grace runs a tight ship there. Nothing happens in that building without her knowing about it."

He hauls my bag out to the truck before I can argue, and I follow, peering back at the structure over my shoulder before climbing in beside him.

The drive into town passes in loaded silence. Nolan's knuckles stay white against the steering wheel, and he constantly checks the mirrors. Every few seconds, his nostrils flare slightly, like he's testing the air for something I can't detect.

"You're making me nervous with all the surveillance behavior."

"Good, nervousness keeps you alert."

"I meant you're acting like you expect an ambush around every corner. What aren't you telling me?"

"Sometimes people target outsiders. Especially ones who spend time alone in the woods."

The explanation feels incomplete, like he's editing out crucial details. "How would you know that?"

"Small towns have their share of weirdos. Always have." He pulls up beside the library's modest brick facade. "Grace is expecting you. I called ahead."

Another piece of the puzzle that doesn't quite fit. "When did you have time to call anyone?"

"While you were packing." But I'd grabbed my things in under three minutes, barely enough time to stuff essentials into a bag, let alone coordinate with the librarian.

Nolan climbs out and retrieves my bag from the truck bed, his movements economical and purposeful, constantly surveying the street like he's cataloging every parked car and passerby.

"I'll pick you up once I finish," he says, handing over my bag. "Don't go anywhere alone."

"Nolan." I catch his arm before he can retreat to the driver's seat. "How do you always know when I need help?"

His composure slips for a fraction of a second—guilt, maybe, or fear. "Lucky timing."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I can give you right now."

Blowing out a long breath, I search him for any crack in that tightly maintained composure. "Alright, Nolan. I'll let this slide for now, but you have some explaining to do later."