“Reckless, even.”
As I ring him up, I feel it again—that subtle shift in the air. I glance at the door.
Archer is back. Or maybe he never left. That’s almost what it feels like. He stands just inside the entrance, one shoulder angled toward the street like he’s keeping one foot in each world. His gaze sweeps the room again, slower this time.
More deliberate. He’s not just watching people. He’s cataloging them. The realization sends a strange ripple through me.
Who they are. Where they move. How they act. It’s not casual. It’s strategic.
“Everything okay?” the man asks, noticing my distraction.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “Sorry. Last night was a big night.”
He nods, takes his receipt, and heads out. Archer’s gaze tracks him all the way to the door. Then beyond it. Okay. That’s… not normal.
I find Delilah near the back, rearranging a display that’s slightly ransacked after last night’s festivities.
“You don’t have to do this you know.”
She smiles without looking up. “I’m curating the energy.”
“By alphabetizing candles?”
“By ensuring harmony,” she corrects.
I cross my arms. “Then maybe you can explain something to me.”
That gets her attention. She straightens slowly, her expression sharpening just enough to tell me she already knows what I’m going to ask.
“Archer,” I say.
Her lips curve. “Ah.”
“He’s not just being protective,” I continue. “He’s acting like…” I hesitate. “Like something’s wrong.”
Delilah studies me, as if weighing how much to say.
“He sees things others don’t,” she finally replies.
“That’s vague.”
“It’s meant to be.”
I sigh. “You’re not going to give me a straight answer, are you?”
“Not today.”
“Why not today?”
“Because right now… this is yours,” she says gently. “And I’d hate to cloud it with things that can wait.”
That doesn’t reassure me. It does the opposite.
“What kind of things?” I press.
Delilah’s gaze flicks toward where Archer stood only moments ago, then back to me.
“The kind that come with history,” she says quietly. “Responsibility. Burden.”