Page 26 of The Nook for Brooks (Mulligan’s Mill #6)

Bea flicked me on the forehead with a sharp little nail.

“Oh, stop. You’re not some roadside motel, you’re the Taj Mahal…

just without the royal corpses buried beneath the tiles.

But men like Cody? They’re the kind who pass through, scribble a postcard about the experience, and catch the next flight. And you can’t change that.”

The peppermint tea cooled uselessly in my hand. “So what am I supposed to do exactly? Just smile and dab my tears as I wave him goodbye, like some wartime bride at a train station watching her true love disappear in a veil of steam?”

“Dramatic… but yes,” Bea said simply. “Smile. Wave. Set him free. Because if he loves you—and I think he does more than he even knows yet—he’ll circle back. Not because you begged. Not because you tried to cage him. But because he wants to.”

I swallowed. My bow tie suddenly felt like it was strangling me. “And if he doesn’t?”

“Then you grieve like a diva who got voted off Broadway too soon. Loudly, with fabulous eyeliner, and an encore no one forgets. Then you rebuild, because you, my cherub, are stronger than you think. You’re not fragile.

You’re a diamond. Forged from pressure, impossible to break, and dazzling when the light hits you just right. ”

I drew a breath and shuddered. “So there’s nothing I can do?”

“Oh, there’s plenty you can do, but trust me, it’ll all end in humiliation and heartbreak.

I’m saying there’s nothing you should do, other than let him choose his own path.

” She pushed herself off the counter and tucked her pineapple handbag under one arm.

“Be gallant. Be gracious. And for fuck’s sake, don’t go doing anything theatrical to prove yourself. That’s my department.”

She kissed the air by my cheek and swanned out, sequins catching the morning sun. “Remember, darling—if you love them, set them free. If they love you, they’ll come back.”

The bell jingled behind her, leaving the shop quiet again.

Leaving her words hanging in the air.

Set him free.

Easy to say when you weren’t the one left behind with nothing but peppermint tea and the echo of Patagonia still ringing in your ears.

But as I stood there, staring out through the window of the Book Nook, the phrase began twisting in my head, reshaping itself into something else entirely.

If I was strong, shouldn’t I act courageously?

If I was a diamond, shouldn’t I shine?

If I wanted him to stay—stay with me —I had to prove I wasn’t just a stopover.

Not fragile.

Not temporary.

Someone he’d never want to leave.

My stomach clenched. My heart pounded in my chest. And an idea began to form, stubborn and undeniable.

But if Cody was going to fly away, then I had to show him what he’d be leaving behind. I had to be brave, stand tall, prove I wasn’t fragile. Not just a stopover. Someone impossible to leave.

And what better way to prove it than to face the one thing I had spent my entire life avoiding— the wilderness .

The trails beyond town, the looming ridge, the very trees that had always seemed to whisper stay inside where it’s safe.

If I could walk out there alone and come back alive, then maybe I could believe I was stronger than everyone thought. Stronger than even I thought.

So yes, it was ridiculous. Yes, it was theatrical. Yes, it was precisely what Bea had told me not to do. But it was also the only plan I had.

I turned the Open sign to Closed, locked the shop door, and marched upstairs to my little turret abode with the grim determination of a man preparing for a duel.

I opened my wardrobe and saw clothes designed for civility, not survival, none of which had ever encountered a pinecone. It was all crisp shirts, orderly slacks, jackets that had never seen a wrinkle.

Still, I chose my most wilderness-friendly outfit—dark corduroy trousers, a gray shirt that might disguise dirt better than white, and an old pair of shoes I hadn’t worn in years. Shoes I was fully prepared to sacrifice to the merciless whims of Mother Nature.

I fastened the top button of my shirt, reached automatically for a bow tie… then stopped. My hand hovered in midair, trembling at the thought of leaving without it.

The wilderness, after all, was no place for silk.

But the thought of going out bare-throated made my pulse spike. What if I needed it? What if I panicked? What if the lack of symmetry drove me to madness and I turned into a local legend that haunted the woods—the Beast of Mulligan’s Mill, half snarky, half insane?

I decided I couldn’t leave without at least one bow tie in my possession. I didn’t have to wear it… I just needed it with me.

I stuffed one bow tie into my pants pocket. Then another. Then two more. Then another three. By the end I looked like a shoplifter at a bow tie emporium.

“There,” I muttered aloud, patting the pocket like it contained rations for the apocalypse. “Practical. Sensible. Prepared.”

Well… not quite yet.

I unbuttoned my cuffs and reluctantly rolled my sleeves up, then took one final look in the mirror. I didn’t exactly look like an intrepid adventurer. I looked more like a substitute teacher lost on a field trip.

But I had corduroy.

I had rolled sleeves.

I had rations of bow ties.

I would survive.

I descended the spiral staircase, paused at the counter to align the bookmarks like I was farewelling order, then took one long breath and stepped outside, locking the door behind me.

Instantly I jumped, my heart a nervous wreck, as a voice piped up behind me. “Wow. You look really different, Mr. Beresford.”

I spun, hand clutching my chest like a Victorian widow. “Milton! You scared the life out of me.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. Are you going somewhere?”

“Yes. I’m going for a stroll. Into the woods.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

“Into the woods?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” I noticed he was clutching his backpack to his chest, glasses sliding down his nose, eyes alight with excitement. “Well, I just wanted to say thank you again for the dragon book. It’s… it’s the best thing anyone’s ever given me.”

“Well,” I said briskly, through something tight in my throat. “You’re welcome.”

“I read half of it the first night, and the rest last night. I couldn’t stop. And I did what you asked! I picked the most frightening dragon.”

“Oh?” I tugged at my sleeves, trying not to look ridiculous. “And who might that be?”

He pushed his glasses up with a solemn finger. “The Boneclaw Behemoth. Found in the shadow woods of Elderspire. His scales are black as coal, and they say he can swallow an entire knight in a single gulp.”

My stomach gave an uncomfortable twitch. “Woods, you say?”

Milton nodded eagerly. “But you don’t have to worry, Mr. Beresford.

He’s not unstoppable. The book says the trick isn’t fighting him with fire or steel, it’s outsmarting him.

The bravest knight calls to his two comrades, and together the three knights climb on each other’s shoulders, spreading their arms wide, rattling their swords, shouting at the top of their lungs, until they look bigger and more frightening than the dragon itself.

And the Boneclaw Behemoth, terrified, slinks away. ”

I blinked at him. “So, the secret is… looking taller?”

“And louder,” Milton said, deadly serious. “Size and volume. That’s how you win. The knight knew if you stand small and quiet, the dragon will eat you. But if you look like a giant—if you show no fear—he runs.”

I forced a thin smile. “Fascinating. Charming in theory, hopeless in reality, of course. Knights and comrades and swords aren’t exactly in ready supply around here.”

Milton shrugged. “Maybe not. But it’s good to know, right? In case you ever run into a dragon in the woods.”

I laughed, rather nervously. “Yes. Quite. Dragons in the woods. Imagine that.”