Page 9

She paused. “The same one that molted early?”

Rollo nodded.

SHe bit her lip for a moment and he had to force himself to not remember what those lips tasted like.

“I thought it might help to lend a hand.”

He tilted his head. “Thought I wasn’t worth your energy?”

She sighed, not facing him. “Wren’s weak. Sicker than she’s letting on. It’s been... a lot. And then seeingyou, running a sanctuary like some big-hearted mountain man...” Her voice softened. “It threw me.”

Rollo didn’t move. Didn’t speak for a moment.

“Not just big-hearted,” he said finally, stepping past her toward the enclosure. “Also stubborn. And usually sleep-deprived.”

She followed him into the warm room, kneeling down beside the pup without hesitation. Her fingers hovered over the tiny body, not touching, just sensing.

“He’s cold. Even with the stones.”

Rollo watched her, the way her eyes narrowed, her brow furrowed. She was still sharp. Still tuned to the threads most others missed.

“I run this place solo,” he said. “Started it a year after you left. Took over after the old caretaker passed. Seemed right.”

Delilah glanced up, surprised. “You do it alone?”

“Yup. Millie Grace helps sometimes, but it’s mostly just me and the critters.”

Her mouth pressed into a thoughtful line.

“You could’ve written,” she said after a moment.

Rollo’s heart thudded, slow and heavy. “Would it have mattered?”

“Maybe.”

They fell into silence, only the low chirp of the bunyip pups from the next room breaking it. Delilah reached into her pocket and pulled out a tiny woven pouch, untied it, and sprinkled something fine and golden over the phoenix pup.

“Crushed sun-blossom,” she explained. “For hope.”

Rollo watched her hands, graceful and sure. Watched the way her hair glinted in the slant of light. He’d thought he’d forgotten what she looked like when she was focused. He hadn’t.

“You never stopped,” he said quietly.

She looked up. “Stopped what?”

“Being… this. Magic. Gentle. You.”

For a moment, something shifted between them—an ache too familiar, a longing they’d both buried deep.

Their fingers brushed again as they both reached to adjust the pup’s blanket.

Rollo inhaled sharply.

The bond snapped against him like a rubber band pulled too tight. It pulsed. Real. Alive.

Still hers.

His bear clawed beneath his skin, not wild, but desperate. Certain.