Chapter 15

The Willow Creek Community Hall was filling up quickly. At least half the town had trudged through muddy streets in an effort to make it there on time. Folding chairs were arranged in a loose semicircle beneath strings of old café lights that Sadie insisted made the place “less funereal.” A good-sized crowd was on hand: shop owners, retirees, parents balancing fidgety kids on their laps. The chatter was warm, restless, and very Willow Creek—equal parts gossip and civic pride.

Ryan sat near the back, shoulders drawn tight as the meeting rolled on. Evelyn sat almost directly opposite him, across the room, near the front row where longtime locals usually staked their claim. He tried not to watch her. He tried even harder not to notice the way she pushed her sleeve up whenever she took notes, or how her posture straightened every time someone mentioned recovery efforts following the flood.

The meeting opened with Mayor Dalton discussing allocations for rebuilding the riverbank walkway—washed out in two places by the storm. Then came updates on trail maintenance, summer festival planning, and the push to restore the historic Mill House before autumn tourists arrived.

Ryan listened, absorbing more about the town in one hour than he had in a month. He found himself strangely invested—leaning forward during debates about whether the volunteer fire station should get new equipment, nodding along as Caleb spoke about safety concerns along the north ridge trail.

Evelyn contributed, too. When the conversation drifted toward the children’s summer programs, she stood and addressed the room with a measured confidence.

“I’d like to expand the library’s storytelling events this year,” she said, hands clasped loosely in front of her. “Especially after the flood. Kids need routine—and they need joy.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled around her. Even Ryan felt something like pride swell unexpectedly in his chest. She wasn’t performing. She was simply ... herself. Steady. Composed. Brave in her own quiet way.

When the meeting finally adjourned, people milled about, pulling on coats, exchanging updates on gardens, and arranging coffee dates. Ryan lingered by the rear row, pretending to tuck papers into a folder he didn’t really need. He wasn’t looking for Evelyn—he told himself that twice—but he couldn’t help scanning the crowd until he saw her weaving through it.

She headed toward the exit, tote bag slung over her shoulder.

Their paths converged near the double doors, almost by accident, almost by some gravitational rule nobody acknowledged.

Evelyn stopped. Ryan hesitated. Then he offered a small, cautious nod.

“Good meeting,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” she replied. Her voice was steady, polite—neutral in a way that acknowledged their recent détente without assuming anything more. “I’m glad people turned out.”

For a second, they both reached for the door handle at once and pulled back in mirrored embarrassment.

“You go ahead,” Ryan said.

“No, it’s fine,” Evelyn replied. But then she let out a soft breath, half amusement, half truce. “Let’s just both go.”

So, they stepped through together into the cool night, their shoulders almost—but not quite—close enough to brush. The spring air carried the scent of wet earth and thawing pine. Streetlamps glowed in gentle halos as Willow Creek settled into its evening hush.

They walked side by side down the steps of the hall, neither speaking, neither pulling away. Not close enough to be intimate, but close enough that it was unmistakably intentional.

The gravel path leading away from the Community Hall was still damp from the floodwaters earlier in the week. Ryan and Evelyn walked side by side beneath the glow of streetlamps, their breath faint in the cool spring air. Willow Creek had quieted for the night; only the soft churn of the creek and the occasional passing truck disturbed the stillness.

For the first dozen steps, neither spoke. It wasn’t uncomfortable—just cautious, like approaching the edge of a lake whose depth they couldn’t yet see.

Evelyn was the one who finally broke the silence.

“You seemed ... interested tonight,” she said. “More than before.”

Ryan shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. “I guess I’m starting to understand how things work around here. Or at least trying to.”