Page 160 of At First Spark
I drag a hand through my hair, dust clinging to my skin, settling into the edges of everything that already feels too tight.
The inn.
The fire.
The note.
The photograph.
Holt’s face last night—controlled, steady, but not untouched by any of it.
“She wants me distracted,” I say finally.
Nolan doesn’t respond right away.
“She wants me off balance,” I continue, quieter now. “Looking everywhere except where I should be.”
“Which is here.”
I nod.
“Which means I don’t give her that.”
Nolan studies me for a second, then gives a small nod.
“Then prove it.”
So I do.
The next hour passes differently. I tear into the wall with purpose this time, stripping away the damaged wood and exposing the structure beneath it, piece by piece. Dust clings to my skin, settles into my lungs, coats the back of my throat, but I don’t stop.
Every movement is intentional. Every decision is controlled. If Kenzie wants me distracted, she doesn’t get that.
Still…the feeling doesn’t go away. That sense that something is just slightly off. That I’m being watched. Enough to make my skin prickle when I pause too long.
By the time the sun dips lower, the front parlor looks worse than it did this morning, but it’s the kind of worse that means progress. Exposed beams. Cleared sections. Damage brought fully into the light instead of hidden beneath layers I didn’t want to face.
“I’m heading out,” Nolan says.
He doesn’t move right away. His gaze drifts toward the windows. The back hall. The side door.
Like he’s making sure everything is still exactly where it should be before he leaves it behind.
I glance up, surprised at how quickly the time has passed.
“Already?”
He checks his watch. “It’s later than you think.”
I follow his gaze to the windows. He’s right. The light has shifted into that deep, gold edge that fades fast once it starts.
“I’ll lock up,” I say.
He hesitates, his brows furrowing as his gaze travels over my face.
“You’re not staying here by yourself, Lark.”
There’s no edge in it, just concern.
