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th3mrskory · 21 days ago

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Chapter 2: A New Begining

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

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Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!Logan

Warning: none. Just a slow burn (I promise it will be worth)

Word count: 7.6k

The first night in the cottage passed in a haze. She didn’t unpack much—just a quilt and a pillow to make the lumpy couch tolerable. Exhaustion clung to her, but sleep came in fits and starts. Every creak of the old house startled her awake, and the unfamiliar quiet wrapped around her like a heavy blanket. There were no city sounds to fill the space, no neighbors talking through paper-thin walls. Just her and the whispers of the forest beyond the cracked windows.

When morning came, it brought light that crept hesitantly through the dirt-streaked glass, casting long shadows across the floorboards. She sat up slowly, her body stiff from the couch, and stared at the room around her.

It was a mess. Dust coated every surface, cobwebs clung stubbornly to the corners, and the air smelled faintly of mildew. But this was her mess, and for the first time, that didn’t feel so bad.

The first thing she did was clean. There was no ceremony to it, no grand plan—just an overwhelming need to make this space livable. Scrubbing the windows became her first priority. The grime that clouded the glass blurred her view of the outside world, and with every stroke of the cloth, the light grew brighter, sharper. It felt like wiping away the fog that had settled over her life.

Next came the floors, their creaks and groans a constant reminder of the cottage’s age. She swept and scrubbed until her arms ached, until the scent of lavender soap replaced the stale air that had lingered when she first arrived. The work was hard, and every movement sent protests through muscles she hadn’t used in months, but it grounded her. Each small accomplishment—the gleam of the newly cleaned kitchen counters, the way the sunlight finally warmed the floorboards—felt like a step forward.

As the day stretched on, her thoughts wandered to the life she had left behind. The ache of betrayal still lingered, but here, in this little cottage tucked away from everything, it didn’t seem quite so sharp. The solitude wasn’t something to fear. It was space. Room to breathe.

By the time the sun began to set, she was covered in sweat and dust, her body demanding rest. She sank onto the couch again, this time with a mug of tea she had brewed on the cottage’s ancient stovetop. The sound of the river beyond the woods whispered faintly through the open window, a soothing backdrop to the crackling of the fire she had started in the hearth.

The cottage was still far from perfect. There was so much left to do—repairs she didn’t know how to make, corners she hadn’t yet touched. But as she sat there, wrapped in her quilt, staring into the flickering flames, she felt something she hadn’t in weeks: peace.

This house wasn’t a clean slate, not yet. It was a work in progress. And maybe, just maybe, so was she.

Sunday arrived with the chime of the church bell echoing through the quiet streets of Clearwater. It wasn’t the kind of morning she would’ve imagined for herself a few weeks ago—no hurried rush to get ready, no busy streets filled with strangers. Here, the world seemed to move slower, and for once, she didn’t mind.

She had planned to keep to herself, but the church bulletin board was how she’d found the cottage, and Pastor Edwards had been kind enough to help her settle in. Attending Sunday service felt like the least she could do.

The little white church stood proudly at the center of town, its steeple rising against the pale blue sky. Inside, the wooden pews were worn but polished, and the air smelled faintly of aged hymnals and lavender sachets tucked into the corners. She slipped into a seat near the back, hoping to remain unnoticed, but her presence didn’t go unnoticed for long.

After the service, Pastor Edwards approached her with a warm smile. “Good to see you here, Evelyn. How’s the cottage treating you so far?”

She returned his smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s... a work in progress. I’ve got the cleaning under control, but there are a few things I’m going to need help with. The porch, the plumbing…” She trailed off, feeling a little self-conscious about airing her problems.

The pastor nodded knowingly. “It’s an old place. Built to last, but it’s seen its fair share of years. I’ll ask around for you. See if anyone’s willing to lend a hand.”

A group of townsfolk lingered by the doors, chatting and casting curious glances her way. Pastor Edwards noticed and gestured toward them. “Why don’t I introduce you? Best way to feel at home here is to get to know the people.”

Before she could protest, he led her over, his booming voice breaking through their chatter. “Everyone, this is Evelyn. She just moved into the old cottage by the river.”

The townsfolk greeted her warmly, their curiosity softened by genuine kindness. She exchanged pleasantries, learned a few names, and politely answered their questions about where she came from and why she’d chosen Clearwater.

“You’ll love it here,” one older woman assured her. “Quiet, peaceful, and we’re a helpful bunch when you need us.”

“Actually,” Evelyn said hesitantly, glancing back at Pastor Edwards. “I could use a bit of help. The cottage needs some repairs—the kind of work I can’t do myself. Do you know of any handymen in town?”

The pastor’s expression shifted slightly, his smile turning a touch more cautious. “There’s Logan,” he said after a moment. “He works with the logging company, but he’s good with tools. Knows his way around repairs.”

“That sounds perfect,” she said, relief washing over her. “Do you think he’d be willing to help?”

Pastor Edwards hesitated. “He’s not... much of a people person,” he admitted carefully. “Keeps to himself, mostly. But if anyone can convince him, it’d be me. I’ll ask him next time I see him.”

She nodded, grateful for his kindness but curious about the man the pastor spoke of. A handyman who wasn’t good with people? It was an odd description, but for now, it was enough. She’d take whatever help she could get.

The drive back from church was quiet, the kind of silence that was more a companion than an intruder. The dirt road curved through the woods, the sunlight filtering through the branches in fleeting patterns that played across the windshield. It was peaceful, but her thoughts weren’t.

The brief conversation with Pastor Edwards lingered in her mind. “He’s not... much of a people person,” the pastor had said. It was a strange way to describe someone. Most people were either kind or curt, polite or brusque. Logan, apparently, was none of those things—or maybe all of them at once.

She was so lost in thought that the sudden jolt of her truck made her gasp. The vehicle lurched, its engine coughing out a metallic groan before it stuttered and died. She gripped the wheel tightly, guiding it to the side of the road as it rolled to a stubborn halt.

“No, no, no.”Climbing out, she inspected the vehicle with a growing sense of frustration.With a resigned sigh, she sitted on the dirt road.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the road, and the forest seemed to close in around her.

The sound of an approaching engine broke the stillness, a low rumble growing louder as a pickup truck rounded the bend. She glanced up, squinting against the glare of the headlights as the vehicle slowed to a stop just behind hers.

The man who stepped out moved with a quiet confidence, his boots crunching against the gravel as he approached. Broad shoulders filled out a flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms streaked with sawdust. His face was sharp, framed by dark hair that curled slightly at the ends, and his eyes—sharp and unreadable—held hers for just a moment longer than she expected.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice rough, carrying an edge of concern that didn’t quite match his guarded demeanor.

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly, brushing her hands against her jeans. “Just a little setback.”

“Looks like more than a little setback.”

She bit back a retort, her pride bristling under the weight of his assessment. “I’ve got it under control.”

“Right,” he said dryly, crouching down to inspect the damage anyway. His movements were deliberate, his hands steady as he examined the undercarriage. After a moment, he straightened, brushing his palms against his jeans. “Your axle’s shot. You’re not driving this anywhere.”

Her shoulders sagged, the weight of the day settling heavier on her. “Great,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “Just what I needed.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying her for a moment. “You live nearby?”

She hesitated, reluctant to share too much. But then she remembered Pastor Edwards’ words: He keeps to himself. “The cottage by the river,” she said finally, gesturing vaguely down the road.

Recognition flickered across his face, subtle but undeniable. “Figured you were the new tenant,” he said. “The pastor mentioned you.”

“Of course he did,” she said, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Small town, huh?”

“Yeah,” he replied. He nodded toward her truck. “Grab what you need. I’ll give you a lift.”

She hesitated again, her pride and practicality at war. Finally, practicality won. “Thanks,” she said, retrieving her bag before climbing into the passenger seat of his truck.

As he started the engine, he glanced at her. “Logan,” he said simply, offering his name without ceremony.

“Evelyn,” she replied, studying his profile as they pulled back onto the road.

The drive was quiet, save for the low rumble of the truck and the occasional creak of its suspension. She couldn’t help but steal glances at him, her curiosity growing with every passing second. There was something about him—an intensity that seemed to vibrate just beneath the surface, like a tightly coiled spring.

When they reached the cottage, Logan parked the truck at the edge of the driveway, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel as the engine idled. She climbed out, pausing to sling her bag over one shoulder before turning back to him.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

He gave a slight nod, his expression steady and unreadable. “I can take a look at your truck,” he said after a beat, his tone straightforward but not unkind.

She hesitated, unsure if the offer was out of convenience or obligation. “You don’t have to,” she replied carefully, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“I know,” he said simply, his gaze meeting hers for a moment before shifting back to the windshield. “But it’ll save you a trip into town. Up to you.”

His words were practical, but something about the way he said them—low and even, without any trace of expectation—made her relent. “Alright,” she said softly. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Tomorrow morning. I’ll call my buddy that has a tow.” he replied, his tone final.

“Okay. Tomorrow morning,” she echoed, stepping back from the truck.

He nodded once more, putting the truck in drive. “See you then,” he said, his voice carrying just enough weight to linger as he pulled away.

She watched the taillights disappear into the woods, the sound of the truck fading into the quiet of the evening. There was something about him—something steady and solid, yet distant—that stayed with her as she turned toward the cottage.

For now, she told herself, it didn’t matter. But as she pushed the door open and stepped inside, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it did.

The next morning arrived with a chill in the air and a pale haze of dawn spreading through the trees. She pulled a cardigan over her shoulders as the hum of an engine broke through the quiet. Logan’s truck rolled up her driveway, followed closely by a rusty tow truck that looked as worn as her own.

Logan stepped out, his movements deliberate, the crunch of gravel under his boots louder than the low rumble of the trucks. He gave her a nod, his face unreadable as usual. “Morning.”

“Morning,” she replied, her voice soft against the brisk air.

The tow truck driver climbed out and gave a brief wave before getting to work. Logan stood back, arms crossed, watching the process with the ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times before.

“Thanks for arranging this,” she said, her fingers tightening on the mug of coffee she held.

“Needed to get it off the road,” he said simply. “Truck like that needs careful handling. Old axles don’t forgive mistakes.”

His words felt practical, not critical, but something in the way he said them made her feel exposed—like he saw more than she was ready to share.

“Well, it’s not much, but it’s mine,” she replied, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her tone.

He nodded, his gaze briefly meeting hers before shifting back to the truck. “That’s what counts.”

The tow truck driver had the vehicle secured in her driveway with a few well-practiced moves, stepping back to dust off his hands. Logan approached her then, his expression as steady as his voice.

“She’s old, but it’s not hopeless,” he said, jerking his head toward the truck. “I’ll need to get under the chassis tomorrow, but the axle can be salvaged.”

A small surge of relief lightened her chest. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he replied, his confidence simple and unassuming. He turned to the driver, exchanged a few quiet words, and handed the man a couple of bills. The driver tipped his cap before climbing into his own truck and pulling away, leaving the two of them alone.

Logan stepped closer to the truck, crouching down again to check the undercarriage. His hands moved with an ease that spoke of long familiarity with this kind of work. “It’s seen better days, but it’s solid,” he said, more to himself than to her. “This kind of thing doesn’t give up easily.”

She didn’t know if he was talking about the truck or something else, but the words settled over her in a way she didn’t expect.

He stood, brushing his hands on his jeans, and looked at her again. “I’ll bring the tools by tomorrow morning. Don’t try driving it until then.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” she replied, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but something close. “Good.”

As he turned to leave, she found herself hesitating, unsure if she should say something more. “Logan,” she called after him.

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Thanks. Really,” she said, the words carrying more weight than she intended.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment, unreadable but steady. “You don’t owe me a thanks,” he said simply before climbing into his truck.

The engine rumbled to life, and she watched as he drove away, the sound fading into the quiet of the woods. Left alone in the stillness, she looked back at her cottage, her truck, and the faint trail of dust left by Logan’s departure.

Something about the moment—about him—stuck with her, like the faint imprint of his voice still hung in the air. There was a steadiness to him, a quiet strength she hadn’t realized she needed until now.

She stepped back inside, her coffee mug still cold in her hands, and let herself wonder for a moment what it was about this town—and the people in it—that already felt so different.

The next day came quietly, the morning sky painted in soft hues of blue and gray. She spent most of it tidying the kitchen, organizing what few things she had unpacked. The routine was calming, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the man who had promised to return.

True to his word, Logan’s truck rolled into her driveway just as the clock struck ten. She stepped outside to greet him, brushing her hands on her jeans, trying not to seem too eager.

“Morning,” he said, pulling a heavy toolbox from the bed of his truck. His tone was as steady as ever, his expression unreadable.

“Morning,” she replied, offering a small smile.

Without wasting any time, Logan set the toolbox down beside her truck and crouched to get to work, his movements precise and methodical. She lingered nearby, unsure if she should offer help or leave him to it.

“You don’t have to stand there,” Logan said after a few minutes, his voice calm but direct. “This might take a while.”

She crossed her arms, the hint of a grin tugging at her lips. “I don’t mind. Besides, I might learn something.”

His mouth twitched, almost a smirk, before he returned his focus to the truck. “Suit yourself.”

For a while, the only sounds were the faint clink of tools and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. She watched him work, noticing the quiet confidence in his movements. His hands were sure and practiced, every action purposeful.

“Have you lived here long?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Long enough,” he replied without looking up.

“Do you like it?”

He paused, wiping his hands on a rag, and glanced at her. “It’s quiet. That’s all I need.”

She tilted her head, intrigued by the simplicity of his answer. “I guess I can see the appeal,” she said softly. “It’s a lot quieter than what I’m used to.”

Logan glanced up again, his gaze lingering this time. “City girl?”

She gave a small nod. “Born and raised. This is the first time I’ve lived somewhere like this.”

“Why’d you come here?” he asked, his voice even but not prying.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the hem of her sweater. “I needed a change,” she said after a pause, her tone guarded. “Something different.”

Logan didn’t press her. Instead, he nodded and returned to his work. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward; it felt more like a truce, an agreement to leave certain things unsaid for now.

An hour later, Logan stood and dusted off his hands. “Your axle’s patched for now,” he said, his tone practical. “Should hold up, but you’ll need a proper replacement soon.”

“Thank you,” she said earnestly, stepping closer. “Really, I can’t thank you enough for this.”

He shrugged, already packing up his tools. “Not a problem.”

“No, I mean it,” she insisted, brushing her hair out of her face. “I’d feel better if I paid you for your time. You’ve already done so much.”

Logan paused, his gaze meeting hers. For a moment, he looked like he might argue, but then he said, “You’ll pay me when I’m done.”

Her brow furrowed. “When you’re done?”

He nodded toward the cottage. “Place like this? You’ve got more than a truck that needs fixing. If I’m coming back to work on it, might as well settle it all at once.”

She blinked, surprised by the offer. “Are you sure? That sounds like a lot of trouble.”

Logan’s expression didn’t change. “Trouble’s part of the job.”

A small laugh escaped her, the tension easing from her shoulders. “Alright. I guess I’ll owe you, then.”

“You will,” he replied simply, closing his toolbox.

“Thank you,” she said again, her voice softer now.

Logan gave her a slight nod, his gaze lingering just long enough to make her heart stumble before he climbed into his truck. “I’ll be by tomorrow to check out the porch,” he called through the open window.

Before she could respond, the engine roared to life, and he was gone, the sound of his truck fading into the woods.

Left standing in her driveway, she looked at the now-functional truck and then at her cottage. For the first time since moving here, she felt a flicker of something more than just survival—a tentative hope that maybe, with a little help, she could start building a life again.

The next day, she decided to head into town for groceries. Her cupboards were mostly bare, and while the cottage’s solitude was soothing, it lacked the essentials to make it feel like home. The small grocery store sat on the corner of Clearwater’s main street, its weathered sign swaying gently in the breeze.

Inside, the aisles were narrow and crowded with goods that seemed frozen in another decade. A bell chimed as she stepped through the door, drawing the attention of the clerk behind the counter—a woman in her late forties with sharp eyes and a kind smile.

“Well, you must be the newcomer everyone’s been talking about,” the woman behind the counter said warmly.

“I guess word travels fast here,” Evelyn replied, grabbing a basket.

“It does,” the clerk said with a chuckle. “I’m Nancy. How’re you settling in?”

Evelyn smiled politely, picking up a basket. “It’s been... a change, but a good one. The town’s been welcoming so far.”

A few other customers—older women browsing the shelves and a man flipping through a newspaper near the counter—turned their attention to her. One of the women spoke up. “Oh, you’re the one fixing up the old cottage by the river, aren’t you? Brave thing, taking on a place like that all by yourself.”

Evelyn hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “It’s a work in progress, but it’s starting to feel like home. Had a little trouble with my truck the other day, though. Luckily, Logan stopped to help me out.”

At that, the room seemed to pause. The man with the newspaper lowered it, the clerk straightened, and one of the women in the aisle actually turned to face her fully.

“Logan?” the Nancy echoed, her tone edged with disbelief.

“Logan Howlett?” added the woman in the aisle, her brows furrowing.

“Yes, Logan,” she replied, glancing between their surprised faces. “He patched up my truck and even offered to help with some repairs around the cottage. Why?”

The clerk exchanged a look with the man at the counter before leaning forward again and letting out a low whisle. “Are you sure it was Logan who helped you? Tall fella? Always looks like he’s in a bad mood?”

“That’s him,” she confirmed, starting to feel self-conscious under their scrutiny.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the man muttered, folding his newspaper. “Doesn’t sound like the Logan I know.”,the man said, his tone edged with curiosity.

“I’d say,” the woman in the aisle chimed in, shaking her head. “He keeps to himself, doesn’t talk much. Not the type to go out of his way for anyone.”

“He didn’t seem unfriendly,” she said carefully, setting a loaf of bread into her basket. “Just... reserved. He was kind, in his own way.”

Nancy leaned over the counter, her curiosity evident. “Reserved is one way to put it. Man’s been in this town for years, and he barely speaks to anyone. You must’ve caught him on a good day.”

Sensing the conversation turning into speculation, she smiled politely and changed the subject. “The cottage is keeping me busy. Between cleaning and figuring out repairs, I haven’t had much time for anything else.”

“Good for you, dear,” the woman in the aisle said, though her curiosity lingered. “It’s a nice town. Quiet. You’ll find your rhythm soon enough.”

“That’s all I want,” she admitted, her tone softening. “Just peace and quiet. I’m not looking for anything more than that.”

“That’s probably for the best,” the older woman said kindly. “You’ll love it here. It’s a quiet town. Peaceful.”

Nancy handed her the receipt, her curiosity fading into a smile. “Well, you’ve come to the right place for that. Folks’ll let you be, though they might talk your ear off first.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Evelyn said with a small laugh.

As she stepped out of the store, the cool air wrapped around her. As Evelyn loaded the items into the passenger seat, her mind lingered on their reactions to Logan. They’d spoken about him as though he were an enigma—someone unknowable, even to the people who’d lived here for years.

Driving back to the cottage, she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man Logan really was. Reserved, yes, but there had been no malice in his quiet demeanor.

The next morning came with a crisp chill that seeped through the windows of the cottage. Evelyn had spent the early hours tidying up, though she wasn’t sure why she felt the need to make the place look presentable. It wasn’t like Logan would care about the half-unpacked boxes or the persistent layer of dust clinging to the baseboards. Still, there was something about the prospect of having him around that made her want to at least look like she had things under control.

True to his word, Logan’s truck rolled into the driveway just after nine. She stepped outside as he climbed out, toolbox in hand and the same calm, unreadable expression on his face.

“Morning,” he said, nodding briefly as he approached.

“Morning,” she replied, crossing her arms to keep the chill at bay. “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything important.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”

She gestured vaguely toward the road. “Don’t you have work? At the logging company, I mean. Or do you make house calls full-time now?”

It was meant to be playful, but the corners of his mouth twitched, like he wasn’t sure whether to take her seriously.

“Not due there ‘til later,” he said simply, crouching down to inspect the porch steps. “Figured I’d get this done first.”

“Efficient,” she murmured, mostly to herself.

He glanced up, the faintest trace of amusement flickering in his eyes. “Something like that.”

The faint exchange felt oddly satisfying, like breaking through the first layer of ice. She lingered on the porch as he worked, watching the way his hands moved with practiced precision. The hammer in his grip looked like an extension of himself, every strike deliberate, every movement efficient.

“Do you like it?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Like what?” he replied without looking up.

“The logging company. The work.”

He straightened, wiping his hands on a rag as he considered her question. “It’s a job,” he said finally, his tone neutral.

She tilted her head. “That’s not exactly a glowing review.”

Logan’s mouth twitched again, but this time, it was closer to a smirk. “Pays the bills. That’s all that matters.”

“Fair enough,” she said, leaning against the railing. “You’re good at this, though,” she added, nodding toward the step he’d just finished reinforcing.

He shrugged, already moving on to the next. “Picked it up over the years. Comes in handy.”

“I can see that,” she replied, watching him work for a moment longer. “Still, I feel a little bad. Seems like you’ve got better things to do than fix up my mess of a house.”

Logan paused, his hands stilling as he glanced up at her. “If I had better things to do, I wouldn’t be here,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact.

The bluntness of his answer caught her off guard, leaving her momentarily at a loss for words.

“Well,” she said finally, clearing her throat, “I appreciate it. Really.”

He gave a small nod, returning to his work without another word.

As the morning wore on, she brought him a glass of water, which he accepted with a quiet “Thanks” before drinking it in a few quick gulps and setting the empty glass on the railing. She noticed how little space he seemed to take up, despite his broad frame and commanding presence. Logan moved like someone who was careful not to disturb the air around him.

“You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you with this place,” he remarked after a while, stepping back to assess the repairs.

“Tell me about it,” she said with a dry laugh. “You should’ve seen the kitchen before I attacked it with a bottle of bleach.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing toward the door. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” she said with a grin.

Logan didn’t laugh, but the corner of his mouth lifted slightly—an almost-smile that was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“You didn’t have to take it on,” he said after a moment, his gaze briefly flicking toward her.

She shrugged, resting a hand on the railing. “Felt like the right thing to do. A new place, a fresh start... or something like that.”

“Fresh starts don’t come easy,” he said, returning to his work. His tone wasn’t dismissive, but there was a weight to his words that made her wonder if he was speaking from experience.

“They never do,” she replied softly.

By the time Logan packed up his tools, the porch looked sturdier than it had in years. He stood, brushing sawdust off his jeans, and nodded toward her.

“That’ll hold for now. You need anything else, let me know.”

“Do you always offer your handyman services, or am I just lucky?” she teased lightly, though there was genuine gratitude in her tone.

“Depends who’s asking,” he replied, his tone even but not unkind.

Her brows lifted slightly at his response, but she chose not to push further. Instead, she smiled and said, “Well, thanks again. Seriously.”

He nodded once more, then headed back to his truck. As the engine roared to life and he drove away, she found herself standing on the newly-repaired porch, her thoughts trailing after him.

Logan was an enigma, no doubt about it. Reserved, distant even. But there was something about his quiet presence that felt grounding in a way she hadn’t expected. It was as though he carried a steady gravity that made the world around him feel less chaotic.

She leaned against the railing, watching the horizon where his truck had disappeared. For now, she told herself, she didn’t need to figure him out.

She had enough to rebuild already.

The day passed quietly after Logan left, the cottage settling back into its usual rhythm of creaks and whispers. Evelyn spent the afternoon unpacking more boxes, though her mind kept wandering back to their conversation. His words had been sparse but weighty, each one carrying a subtle truth she hadn’t expected.

By early evening, her curiosity won out, and she decided to take a walk by the river. The air was cooler now, the sun dipping low and casting long shadows across the forest floor. She followed the worn trail that wound behind her cottage, the faint rush of water growing louder with each step.

When she reached the riverbank, she stopped, taking in the sight of the glassy water reflecting the gold and orange hues of the setting sun. It was peaceful, almost otherworldly in its stillness.

But even here, Logan lingered in her thoughts. The way he’d paused when she’d asked about the logging company. The almost-smile that had flickered across his face when she’d mentioned the kitchen. And the way he’d said, “If I had better things to do, I wouldn’t be here.”

It wasn’t a grand declaration—far from it. But the simplicity of his words had stayed with her, as though they meant more than he’d let on.

She crouched near the water’s edge, picking up a smooth stone and running her thumb over its surface. The town’s reactions to him echoed in her mind, too—the disbelief that he’d helped her, the quiet curiosity when she’d mentioned his name.

They didn’t know him, not really.

And neither did she.

The next morning, Evelyn made another trip into town. She needed groceries, but more than that, she wanted to get a better sense of the place—the people, the rhythm of life here.

The grocery store was small, its aisles narrow and cluttered but charming in their own way. She moved slowly through them, taking her time as she filled her basket with the essentials.

“You’re back,” Nancy, the clerk, said warmly when she approached the counter.

Evelyn smiled. “Looks like I’ll be a regular here.”

“Good,” Nancy replied, ringing up her items. “We like having new faces around here. How’s the cottage coming along?”

“It’s getting there,” Evelyn replied. “I’ve still got a lot to do, but I’m making progress.”

Nancy nodded approvingly. “I saw Logan’s truck heading that way yesterday. He helping you out?”

“Yeah, he fixed up my porch,” Evelyn said, her tone casual.

Nancy’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Did he now?”

“Is that surprising?”

“A little,” Nancy admitted. “He’s not exactly the helpful type, if you know what I mean. Keeps to himself, mostly.”

“That seems to be the consensus around here,” Evelyn said, her curiosity piqued.

Nancy leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Don’t get me wrong—he’s a good man. Just… guarded. Don’t take it personally if he doesn’t say much.”

“I won’t,” Evelyn said with a small smile.

As she loaded the groceries into her truck, her mind lingered on Nancy’s words. Guarded. It was a fitting description, though it didn’t explain the flashes of kindness she’d seen in him. The quiet patience in the way he’d fixed her porch. The faint trace of amusement in his voice when she’d joked with him.

Driving back to the cottage, she glanced at the road ahead, wondering how long it would take for the mystery of Logan Howlett to unravel—or if it ever would.

When she pulled into the driveway, her gaze landed on something unexpected. Neatly stacked against the side of the house was a pile of freshly chopped firewood. She frowned, stepping out of the truck and approaching the stack.

It hadn’t been there that morning, she was sure of it.

Her first thought was Logan, though the idea surprised her. He hadn’t mentioned anything about firewood. He hadn’t said much of anything, really. But who else could it have been?

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly as she ran her fingers over the rough surface of the logs. It was a simple gesture, but it felt... deliberate.

Inside the cottage, she lit a fire in the hearth, the warmth spreading slowly through the room. Sitting cross-legged on the couch, she watched the flames flicker and crackle, her thoughts drifting back to him.

She wasn’t looking for love, or even connection. Not here. Not now. But Logan’s quiet presence had a way of grounding her, pulling her focus from the chaos of her past and planting it firmly in the present.

For now, that was enough.

The third morning after their encounter, Evelyn had settled into the rhythm of the cottage—cleaning, organizing, and slowly shaping the space into something livable. The day was crisp, the air sharp with the scent of pine when a steady knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

She opened it to find Logan standing on the porch, toolbox in hand, his familiar unreadable expression in place.

“Morning,” he said, his voice as steady as ever.

“Morning,” she replied, stepping aside to let him in. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

Logan stepped inside, glancing around briefly before setting his toolbox down near the kitchen. “Figured I’d get the cabinets done,” he said plainly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She folded her arms, leaning against the doorframe with a hint of amusement. “You know, for someone who doesn’t seem to like people all that much, you sure go out of your way to help.”

He paused, turning his head slightly toward her, though his hands stayed busy unpacking his tools. “You saying you don’t need the help?”

“No,” she admitted, her voice softening. “I’m just saying it’s unexpected.”

Logan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he crouched to inspect the cabinets, his broad shoulders filling the small space beneath the sink. “Unexpected doesn’t mean unwelcome,” he said finally, his tone low but even.

She blinked, caught off guard by the weight of his words. He didn’t say them like they were meant to be comforting, but they landed that way regardless.

As Logan worked, Evelyn busied herself around the kitchen, though her eyes often wandered back to him. There was a certain ease to the way he moved—calculated, deliberate, as though every motion had purpose.

“You don’t do this often, do you?” she asked after a while, her voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Logan didn’t look up. “Do what?”

“Fix things for strangers.”

He paused briefly, his hand tightening a bolt on the cabinet door. “You’re not a stranger,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact.

She raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “I’m not?”

“You’re part of this town now,” he replied, moving to the next cabinet without looking at her. “That makes you not a stranger.”

The corners of her lips twitched into a faint smile. “That’s an interesting way of looking at it.”

“It’s just the way it is,” Logan said, his voice steady.

She watched him for a moment, her curiosity growing. “Well, either way, I feel like I owe you. For the cabinets, the porch, the firewood...”

Logan glanced at her briefly, his eyes sharp but unreadable. “You’ll pay me when I finish everything that needs fixing.”

There was no room for argument in his tone, and something about it made her decide not to push further.

By midday, Logan had made significant progress, the cabinets now sturdy and functional. The kitchen felt less like a relic of the past and more like a space she could actually use.

“Lunch?” she offered, gesturing to the small table where she’d set out sandwiches and coffee.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, wiping his hands on a rag before sitting across from her.

The silence between them was comfortable, the soft hum of the radio filling the space as they ate. Logan’s gaze drifted briefly to the stack of boxes in the corner, but he didn’t comment.

“Moving in isn’t as glamorous as it looks,” she said, following his gaze.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re in a rush,” he replied, taking a sip of coffee.

“I’m not,” she admitted. “After everything that happened... I think I just need to take my time.”

He nodded slightly, his expression thoughtful but guarded. “Makes sense.”

She hesitated, then asked, “You ever feel like that? Like you need to step away from everything for a while?”

Logan’s gaze met hers for a brief moment before he looked down at his mug. “More than you’d think.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning she didn’t press him to explain.

By the time Logan packed up his tools, the kitchen looked sturdier than it had in years. He stood by the doorway, his toolbox in hand, and gave her a brief nod.

“That should hold for now. I’ll check the roof next time,” he said.

“Next time, huh?” she said with a faint smile. “Do I need to schedule you in, or should I just leave the door unlocked?”

“Depends,” he replied, his tone carrying the faintest hint of humor. “You planning on giving me more work?”

Her smile widened slightly. “I’m sure I can find something.”

Logan’s lips twitched in what might have been the beginning of a smirk, but he didn’t let it settle. “See you around,” he said, heading to his truck.

As the engine roared to life and he drove away, Evelyn lingered on the porch, watching until the truck disappeared from view.

For someone who claimed not to like people, Logan Howlett seemed to go out of his way to help her. And for someone who claimed not to need help, she was beginning to realize how much his presence steadied her.

The thought stayed with her as she turned back toward the house, the faint smell of sawdust lingering in the air.

The following days passed quietly, the steady rhythm of her routine broken only by the occasional creak of the cottage or the distant sound of the river. Though the repairs Logan had done made a world of difference, there was still so much left to tackle.

True to his word, Logan returned a few days later, his truck pulling into the driveway with the same low rumble she was beginning to recognize. This time, he was inspecting the roof—a task she was more than happy to leave entirely in his hands.

From the safety of the porch, she watched as he climbed the ladder, his movements deliberate and practiced.

“Find anything up there?” she called up, shading her eyes from the midday sun.

“Leaky spots,” he replied, his voice carrying easily over the breeze. “Couple shingles need replacing.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Could be worse,” he said, crouching to examine the roofline. “At least it’s not caving in.”

“Well, there’s a silver lining,” she said dryly, though her tone carried a hint of humor.

Logan glanced down at her briefly, his lips twitching in what might have been amusement before he returned to his work.

As the afternoon wore on, Evelyn busied herself in the garden—if it could even be called that. Overgrown weeds and tangled ivy spilled over the edges of a weathered stone path, and she’d decided it was time to tame at least part of it.

She was crouched near the base of an old oak tree, pulling stubborn roots from the soil, when Logan’s voice startled her.

“You planning to fix that up too?”

She looked up, brushing her hair out of her face to see him standing a few feet away, his toolbox in hand.

“Eventually,” she said, gesturing to the mess around her. “It’s on the very long list of things to do.”

He nodded, setting the toolbox down near the porch. “Looks like it’s been a while since anyone’s touched it.”

“More like decades,” she replied, straightening and wiping her hands on her jeans. “But I guess that’s what I signed up for.”

“Not many people would,” Logan said, his tone matter-of-fact.

She tilted her head, studying him. “What about you? Ever think about fixing up a place like this?”

He shrugged, leaning against the railing. “Not really. I’m not much for settling down.”

The words lingered between them, heavy with a meaning she couldn’t quite place.

“Well,” she said finally, forcing a small smile, “good thing I’m not asking you to move in.”

Logan huffed softly, a sound that might have been a laugh, before picking up his toolbox again.

By the time the sun began to set, Logan had finished patching up the roof, and Evelyn had managed to clear a small patch of the garden. The quiet hum of the forest filled the air as they stood on the porch, the fading light casting long shadows across the yard.

“Thanks again,” she said, her voice softer now. “I know I keep saying it, but... I really mean it. This place would probably collapse around me if it weren’t for you.”

Logan shrugged, his expression as steady as ever. “You’re doing most of the work. I’m just keeping it from falling apart.”

“Still,” she said, meeting his gaze, “I appreciate it.”

He nodded once, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer than usual before he turned toward his truck.

“Logan,” she called after him, her voice stopping him mid-step.

He glanced back over his shoulder.

“You said you’re not much for settling down,” she said, her tone careful. “But... why stick around Clearwater, then? What keeps you here?”

Logan didn’t answer right away, his gaze shifting to the treeline in the distance. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more thoughtful.

“Sometimes it’s easier to stay where people already expect you to be alone.”

Her breath hitched at the weight of his words, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond.

Before she could find the right thing to say, Logan nodded again and climbed into his truck. The engine roared to life, and within seconds, he was gone, leaving her standing on the porch, the quiet settling around her like a heavy blanket.

That night, as the fire crackled softly in the hearth, Evelyn sat curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her lap. The cottage was quiet now, save for the occasional groan of its old frame and the faint murmur of the river beyond the trees.

Logan’s words echoed in her mind. Sometimes it’s easier to stay where people already expect you to be alone.

She hadn’t known what to say to him then, and even now, hours later, she wasn’t sure she had an answer. But his honesty had left a mark, stirring something deep within her—a recognition of the weight they both seemed to carry in silence.

Her gaze drifted to the stack of firewood by the hearth. She hadn’t mentioned it to him, hadn’t asked if it was his doing. Somehow, she didn’t need to. The gesture felt like an extension of who he was—quiet, steady, always keeping his distance but still leaving something behind.

The faint glow of the fire bathed the room in warmth, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a flicker of contentment. It wasn’t happiness, not yet. But it was something close to it—a fragile sense of being grounded, of starting to rebuild.

As she sipped the last of her tea, her eyes grew heavy, the day’s work and lingering emotions finally catching up to her. She let herself sink into the cushions, the blanket pulled tighter around her shoulders.

Tomorrow would bring more work, more repairs, and, if she was lucky, another visit from Logan. Not that she’d admit she was looking forward to it—not even to herself.

For now, the fire burned steadily, the cottage standing strong around her, and the quiet of the night felt more like peace than loneliness.

With that thought, she let her eyes close, the rhythm of the river lulling her into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 3

_______________________________________________________________tagging some amazing people that showed interest on my previous post (if you don't want to be tagged please let me know):

Taglist

@coocoocachewgotscrewed @latinapiscess @littlebunnybigheartfics @themareverine @pandapetals @logansbaby @the-quick-red-fox @throwmethroughawindow @ifyouseethisnoyoudont22 @galacticglitterglue @whos-nin1

@thisismajortom21 @may-vol-6 @Oh-basic @sarahbarbosa22 @luvpalepinkjazz @irish-pooka @yologans @equilight @lxrxvsp @h4nluv @uncannywolverine @thesecretlifeofmo @mystifiesjdmtcw @socisse @thickynicky547 @peculiarpiscess @tezooks @greenturtlegirl @greenbearplaidbow @eummm @benispunk @th8mz @jounal3sports @alsoprettyinpink @softepiloguemylove @manicandobsessive @b-y-3-n @blahkateisdone @karencaribou @sidkneeeee @theworstwolvie @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @lunellas-library

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angelap3 · 5 months ago

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La storia della Musica!!!!

Tre giorni di pace e musica. Tre giorni che hanno fatto la storia. Si celebra oggi il 51esimo anniversario del più grande evento di libertà, umanità e lotta pacifica: il Festival di Woodstock. Più che un concerto un pellegrinaggio, una fiera di arte e musica, una comunità, un modo di vivere che ha cambiato per sempre il concetto di libertà. Sul palco, a Bethel (una piccola città rurale nello stato di New York) si sono alternati per tre giornate alcuni tra i più grandi musicisti della storia. Musicisti che provenivano da influenze, scuole musicali e storie differenti ma che avevano in comune ciò che più contava in quei favolosi anni ’60: la controcultura.

Si passava dal rock psichedelico di Jimi Hendrix (che, pur di essere l’ultimo a esibirsi, salì sul palco alle 9 di lunedì mattina per un concerto di due ore, culminato nella provocatoria versione distorta dell’inno nazionale statunitense) e dei Grateful Dead ai suoni latini dei Santana (che regalarono un memorabile set, impreziosito dallo storico assolo di batteria del più giovane musicista in scena: Michael Shrieve) passando per il rock britannico di Joe Cocker (che regalò in scaletta le splendide cover di Just Like a Woman di Dylan e With a Little Help from my Friends dei Beatles) e degli Who all’apice della loro carriera (celebre l’invasione di palco dell’attivista Habbie Hoffman, durante il loro concerto, quasi quanto il lungo assolo di Pete Townshend durante My Generation, con lancio di chitarra finale).

C’era poi il folk, con una splendida Joan Baez su tutti, che suonò nonostante fosse al sesto mese di gravidanza, genere tipicamente statunitense che si alternava a suoni più esotici e orientali, come il sitar di Ravi Shankar. Impossibile dimenticare infine l’intensa performance della regina del soul Janis Joplin, la doppia esibizione (acustica ed elettrica) di Crosby, Stills, Nash e del “fantasma” di Neil Young, che rifiutò di farsi riprendere dalle telecamere e il divertente show dei Creedence Clearwater Revival.

1969, il ‘Moon day’ in musica..

Concerti che rimarranno nella memoria di chiunque ami la musica come simbolo di cambiamento, pace e libertà. D’impatto i presenti come pesanti furono le assenze di John Lennon, che si rifiutò di esibirsi per il mancato invito di Yoko Ono, Bob Dylan, padrone di casa (lui che all’epoca viveva proprio a Woodstock) assente per la malattia del figlio, i Rolling Stones, ancora scossi per la morte di Brian Jones e i Doors, alle prese con una serie infinita di problemi legali.

Il vero protagonista dell’evento fu però il pubblico, la “vera star” secondo l’organizzatore Michael Lang, eterogeneo quasi quanto i generi musicali. Da tutta America arrivarono studenti liceali e universitari, hippie, veterani del Vietnam, filosofi, operai e impiegati. Nessuna differenziazione di razza, etnia o colore della pelle: tutti uniti dalla voglia di stare insieme in libertà con il fango a livellare ogni diversità e i capelli lunghi come simbolo di ribellione. Un sogno che oggi sembra lontano anni luce, nelle ideologie come nell'organizzazione.

Da quel 1969 si è provato a più riprese a riproporre Woodstock, con scarsi risultati culminati nell'annullamento del concerto in programma per questo cinquantesimo anniversario, organizzato proprio da Lang e non andato in porto tra una defezione e l’altra, forse perché indigesto ai grandi organizzatori di eventi musicali mondiali. Forse, a conti fatti, meglio così: quell'atmosfera irripetibile era frutto di una spontaneità organizzativa di altri tempi, una magia fuori da ogni schema il cui risultato sensazionale, iconico e significativo fu chiaro solo anni dopo anche agli stessi partecipanti.

Vanni Paleari

PhWoodstock, 1969

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agottamndelight · 6 months ago

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I am 1000% anti AI EXCEPT in the instance of random Google docs autocorrect all "cr" words to Crowley. Because Google bought tumblr.com. It would be a sign. It would be life imitating art. *edit, it would earn crowley a commendation in hell for AI.* It would be a raspberry in they eye of every rich asshole who dropped money on AI for evil purposes (ie, stealing money from artists). it would be really annoying for citizens of Crowley, and the members of Crowley Clearwater Revival, biologists and school children writing about the animal Crowley, and people trying to find Crowley Cookies, but sacrifices have to be made.

#good omens #david tennant #michael sheen #crowley #AI #hack the system for good #hack the system for evil #it's called manifestation baby #can i get a wahoo #be gay do crimes #be gay do crowley

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davidross2 · 3 months ago

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SEO Company Clearwater Florida - PAGE1

Clearwater SEO Company

AI Driven SEO Our innovative AI technology helps you stay ahead of the competition with automated SEO improvements.

#Clearwater SEO Company

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densesindealer · 11 months ago

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My Full Muse List, Updated

I decided to go through and update my entire muse list, adding and removing characters, and I decided to make a post with the list that I intend to give easy to find tags on my blog, or to pin it later on.

All male muses can be used for gender transformation asks, and any males from their series can be used for gender transformation asks so long as they follow the other rules of my blog. This applies even if a male character from the series isn't normally on my muse list as their male counterpart. I.E. Byakuya from Danganronpa as a woman with Makoto, or Bakugou from My Hero Academia as a woman with Midoriya.

Danganronpa

Makoto Naegi

Junko Enoshima

Mukuro Ikusaba

Celestia Ludenberg

Aoi Asahina

Sayaka Maizono

Kyoko Kirigiri

Sakura Oogami

Toko Fukawa

Chiaki Nanami

Mikan Tsumiki

Hiyoko Saionji

Akane Owari

Peko Pekoyama

Ibuki Mioda

Mahiru Koizumi

Sonia Nevermind

Komaru Naegi

Kanon Nakajima

Hiroko Hagakure

Kotoko Utsugi

Monaca Towa

Chisa Yukizome

Miaya Gekkogahara

Seiko Kimura

Aiko Umesawa

Ando Ruruka

Kirumi Tojo

Tsumugi Shirogane

Angie Yonaga

Tenko Chabashira

Maki Harukawa

Miu Iruma

Kaede Akamatsu

Himiko Yumeno

Spy x Family

Yor Forger

Anya Forger

League Of Legends

Ahri

Akali

Senna

Miss Fortune

Lux

Jinx

Vex

Xayah

Annie

Ashe

Caitlyn

Irelia

Seraphine

Morgana

Neeko

My Hero Academia

Izuku Midoriya

Momo Yaoyorozu

Ochako Uraraka

Mina Ashido

Tsuyu Asui

Toru Hagakure

Kyouka Jirou

Mei Hatsume

Melissa Shield

Nejire Hado

Nemuri Kayama/Midnight

Rumi Usagiyama/Mirko

Kaoruko Awata/Bubble Girl

Emi Fukukado/Ms. Joke

Ryuku Tatsuma/ Ryukyu

Yu Takeyama/Mt. Lady

Shino Sosaki/Mandalay

Ryuko Tsuchikawa/Pixie-Bob

Tomoko Shiretoki/Ragdoll

Inko Midoriya

Mitsuki Bakugou

Kinoko Komori

Tokage Setsuna

Yui Kodai

Ibara Shiozaki

Pony Tsunotori

Itsuka Kendo

Reiko Yanagi

Himiko Toga

Manami Aiba/La Brava

Nana Shimura

Camie Utsushimi

Chitose Kizuki/Curious

Fuyumi Todoroki

Rei Todoroki

Kaina Tsutsumi/Lady Nagant

Merlin (BBC Series)

Merlin Ambrosius

Morgana Le Fay

High Priestess Nimueh

Harry Potter

Cho Chang

Luna Lovegood

Fleur DeLacour

Gabrielle DeLacour

Hermione Granger

Katie Bell

Alicia Spinnet

Angelina Johnson

Lavender Brown

Susan Bones

Hannah Abbott

Daphne Greengrass

Astoria Greengrass

Bellatrix Lestrange

Narcissa Malfoy

Pansy Parkinson

Nymphadora Tonks

Andromeda Tonks

Aurora Sinistra

Septima Vector

Tracey Davis

Rowena Ravenclaw

Helena Ravenclaw

Penelope Clearwater

Amelia Bones

Lily-Evans Potter

Rose Weasley

Lily Luna Potter

Sue Li

Romilda Vane

Padma Patil

Parvati Patil

Mirabel Garlick

AI The Somnium Files

Kaname Date

Aiba

Shizure Kuranushi/Boss

Mizuki Okiura

Iris Sagan

Amame Doi

Phoenix Wright

Mia Fey

Maya Fey

Pearl Fey

Trucy Wright

Ema Skye

Franziska von Karma

Athena Cykes

Lana Skye

The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles

Ryunosuke Naruhodo

Susato Mikotoba

Iris Wilson

Nikolina Pavlova

Gina Lestrade

Percy Jackson

Hazel Levesque

Piper McLean

Annabeth Chase

Reyna Ramirez-Arellano

Thalia Grace

Zoe Nightshade

Clarisse La Rue

Rachel Elizabeth Dare

Silena Beauregard

Sally Jackson

Bianca di Angelo

Calypso

Athena

Artemis

Aphrodite

Hera

Demeter

Hestia

Hecate

Persephone

Scooby-Doo

Norville ‘Shaggy’ Rogers

Daphne Blake

Velma Dinkley

Thorn

Luna

Dusk

Tanis The Mummy

Sibella Dracula

Phantasma

RWBY

Jaune Arc

Ruby Rose

Weiss Schnee

Blake Belladonna

Yang Xiao-Long

Pyrrha Nikos

Nora Valkyrie

Coco Adel

Velvet Scarlatina

Glynda Goodwitch

Cinder Fall

Neopolitan

Emerald Sustrai

Ilia Amitola

Winter Schnee

Willow Schnee

Kali Belladonna

Summer Rose

Raven Branwen

Salem

Penny Polendina

Neon Katt

Saphron Cotta-Arc

Terra Cotta-Arc

Street Fighter

Chun-Li

Cammy White

Rainbow Mika

Mortal Kombat

Johnny Cage

Cassie Cage

Kitana

Mileena

Tanya

Jade

Sindel

Skarlet

Jacqui Briggs

Li Mei

Cetrion

Sareena

Fairy Tale

Erza Scarlet

Lucy Heartfilia

Brandish U

Konosuba

Wiz

Aqua

Megumin

Darkness

Yunyun

Avatar The Last Airbender

Katara

Toph Beifong

Azula

Ty Lee

Danny Phantom

Ember Mclain

Dani Phantom

Sam Manson

Jazz Fenton

Madeline Fenton

Desiree

Johnny Test

Susan Test

Mary Test

Sissy Blakely

Lila Test

DC Comics

Bruce Wayne/Batman

Harleen Quinzel/Harley Quinn

Pamela Isley/Poison Ivy

Thalia al Ghul

Zatanna Zatara/Zatanna

Barbara Ann Minerva/Cheetah

Diana Prince/Wonder Woman

Teen Titans

Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson/Robin/Nightwing

Rachel Roth/Raven

Komand’r/Blackfire

Tara Strong/Terra

Jynx

Arrowverse

Oliver Queen/Green Arrow

Barry Allen/The Flash

Nyssa al Ghul

Sara Lance/White Canary

Laurel Lance/Black Canary

Thea Queen/Speedy

Shado Fei

Caitlin Snow/Killer Frost

Kara Zor-El/Supergirl

Marvel Comics/MCU

Peter Quill/Star-Lord

Peter Parker/Spider-Man

Leopold ‘Leo’ Fitz

Steve Rogers/Captain America

Jennifer Walters/She-Hulk

Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow

Jean Grey

Emma Frost

Mary Jane Watson

Gwen Stacy

Gamora

Mantis

Susan Storm/The Invisible Woman

Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch

Elektra

Kamala Khan/Mrs. Marvel

Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel

Felicia Hardy

Kitty Pryde

X-23

Mystique

Ava Ayala/White Tiger

Lady Sif

Daisy Johnson/Quake

Jemma Simmons

Melinda May

Genshin Impact

Aether

Lumine

Amber

Kamisato Ayaka

Barbara

Jean

Beidou

Ningguang

Collei

Diona

Klee

Qiqi

Paimon

Eula

Rosaria

Fischl

Mona

Ganyu

Keqing

Yoimiya

Raiden Shogun

Kujou Sara

Yae Miko

Hu Tao

Sangonomiya Kokomi

La Signora

Lisa

Noelle

Shenhe

Sucrose

Xiangling

Yelan

Code Geass

Lelouch Lamperouge/Lelouch vi Britannia

C.C.

Cornelia li Britannia

Euphemia li Britannia

Nunnally vi Britannia

Kallen Kouzuki

Villetta Nu

Kaguya Sumeragi

Shirley Fenette

Milly Ashford

Nina Einstein

Cecile Croomy

Infinite Stratos

Ichika Orimura

Chifuyu Orimura

Madoka Orimura

Cecilia Alcott

Laura Bodewig

Lingyin Huang/Rin

Charlotte Dunois

Houki Shinonono

Tabane Shinonono

Tatenashi Sarashiki

Kanzashi Sarashiki

Maya Yamada

Guilty Crown

Shu Ouma

Inori Yuzuriha

Hare Menjou

Haruka Ouma

Mana Ouma

Tsugumi

Ayase Shinomiya

Durarara!!

Mikado Ryuugamine

Celty Sturluson

Anri Sonohara

Super Mario Bros/Super Crown

Luigi

Bowsette

Booette

Rosalina

Princess Peach

Princess Daisy

Shy Gal

Undertale

Frisk

Chara

Toriel

Undyne

Muffet

Temmie

Five Nights At Freddy’s

Toy Chica

Roxanne Wolf

Glamrock Chica

Vanessa

Vanny

Every Male Animatronic As A Female

Kingdom Hearts/Disney

Sora

Kairi

Aqua

Xion

Larxene

Namine

Mulan

Elsa

Go Go Tomago

Belle

Cinderella

Alice

Snow White

Rapunzel

Helen Parr/Elastigirl

Violet Parr

Mirage

Judy Hopps

Your Turn To Die

Sara Chidoun

Maple

Tia Safalin

Reko Yabusame

Kanna Kizuchi

Huniepop

Tiffany Maye

Audrey Belrose

Kyu Sugardust

Kyanna Delrio

Celeste Luvendass

Nekopara

Chocola

Vanilla

Coconut

Azuki

Maple

Cinnamon

Spartacus

Ilithyia

Mira

Persona Series

Yu Narukami

Akira Kurusu/Joker

Chie Satonaka

Yukiko Amagi

Naoto Shirogane

Rise Kujikawa

Margaret

Marie

Ann Takamaki

Shiho Suzui

Makoto Niijima

Haru Okumura

Futaba Sakura

Kasumi Yoshizawa

Sae Niijima

Tae Takemi

Sadayo Kawakami

Pixie

Angel

Succubus

Silky

Apsaras

Cybele

Yaksini

Ishtar

Leanan Sidhe

Clotho

Lachesis

Atropos

Hua Po

Lilim

Maria

Pokemon Series

Hypno

Rosa

Elesa

Hilda

May

Dawn

Jessie

Lillie

Lusamine

Bea

Serena

Misty

Officer Jenny

Nurse Joy

Nessa

Cynthia

Flannery

Marnie

Lorelai

Mallow

Serena

Sonia

Akari

Mai

Arezu

Irida

Palina

Magma Admin Courtney

Nemona

Iono

Tulip

Professor Sada

Professor Juniper

Rika

Dendra

Carmine

Doki Doki Literature Club

Monika

Yuri

Sayori

Natsuki

Overwatch

Hana Song/D.VA

Amelie Lecroux/Widowmaker

Ana Amari/Ana

Angela Ziegler/Mercy

Lena Oxton/Tracer

Olivia Colomar/Sombra

Fareeha Amari/Pharah

Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe/Ashe

Brigitte Lindholm/Brigitte

Echo

Mei-Ling Zhou/Mei

Kiriko Komori/Kiriko

Illari Quispe Ruiz/Illari

Zero Escape

Sigma Klim

Phi

Alice

Clover Field

Mira

Luna

Hazuki Kashiwabara/Lotus

Akane Kurashiki

Resident Evil

Ethan Winters

Leon Scott Kennedy

Mia Winters

Claire Redfield

Jill Valentine

Sherry Birkin

Ada Wong

Rebecca Chambers

Sheeva Alomar

Bela Dimitrescu

Ashley Graham

Eveline

Dragon Ball Z

Broly

Android 18

Android 21

Cheelai

Bulma

Chi-Chi

Towa

Vados

Kusu

Marcarita

Bioshock Infinite

Booker Dewitt

Elizabeth Comstock

Helltaker

Modeus

Lucifer

Cerberus

Judgement

Azazel

Malina

Pandemonica

Justice

Beelzebub

Zdrada

Kim Possible

Ron Stoppable

Bonnie Rockwaller

Shego

Kim Possible

Monster High

Draculaura

Clawdeen Wolf

Cleo de Nile

Lagoona Blue

Toralei Stripe

Abbey Bominable

Venus McFlytrap

Spectra Vondergeist

Final Fantasy

Tifa Lockhart

Aerith Gainsborough

Yuffie Kisaragi

Jessie Rasberry

Stardew Valley

Haley

Emily

Abigail

Leah

Maru

Robin

Jodi

Caroline

Animal Crossing

Isabella

Ankha

Fauna

Judie

Diana

Infamous Second Son

Delsin Rowe

Abigail ‘Fetch’ Walker

Saints Row

The Boss

Shaundi

Kinzie Kensington

Asha Odekar

KiKi DeWynter

Viola DeWynter

Supernatural

Sam Winchester

Ruby

Lilith

Jo Harvelle

Ellen Harvelle

Ava Wilson

Bela Talbot

Sarah Blake

LOTR’s Shadow Of War

Talion

Shelob

Idril

Adventure Time

Marceline The Vampire Queen

Flame Princess

Ice Queen

Scream TV

Noah Foster

Riley Marra

Brooke Maddox

Piper Shaw

Dishonoured

Corvo Attano

Emily Kaldwin

Buffy The Vampire Slayer

Xander Harris

Buffy Summers

Dawn Summers

Willow Rosenberg

Cordelia Chase

Jenny Calendar

Amy Madison

Drusilla

Faith Lehane

Tara Maclay

Darla

Until Dawn

Chris Hartley

Matt Taylor

Emily Davis

Jessica Riley

Samantha Griddings

Hannah Washington

Beth Washington

Corpse Party

Ayumi Shinozaki

Seiko Shinohara

Naomi Nakashima

Yui Shishido

Date A Live

Kurumi Tokisaki

Tohka Yatogami

Yoshino Himekawa

Gravity Falls

Dipper Pines

Pacifica Northwest

Tambry

Wendy Corduroy

Total Drama Island

Gwen

Lindsay

Heather

Bridgette

Courtney

Chuck

Charles ‘Chuck’ Bartowski

Ellie Bartowski

Sarah Walker

Carina Miller

Lou Palone

Anna Wu

Alex McHugh

Skyrim

Serana

Lydia

Aela

Beautiful Creatures

Ethan Wate

Lena Duchannes

Ridley Duchannes

Olivia ‘Liv’ Durand

Jurassic Park

Alan Grant

Zach Mitchell

Owen Grady

Ellie Sattler

Lex Murphy

Claire Dearing

Zara Young

Telltale’s The Walking Dead

Lee Everett

Javier Garcia

Clementine

Carley

Lily

Violet

Eleanor

Kate

iCarly/Victorious

Freddie Benson

Carly Shay

Sam Puckett

Jade West

Tori Vega

Trina Vega

Cat Valentine

Alice In Borderland

Ryouhei Arisu

Hikari Kuina

Rizuna An

Yuzuha Usagi

Asahi Kujō

Saori Shibuki

Elden Ring/Souls Series

Melina

Ranni

Sellen

The Fire Keeper

Lies Of P

Pinocchio

Sophia

Eugenie

Laxasia

Belle

Red Fox

Youngest Of The Black Rabbit Brotherhood

Mascots

Wendy’s Mascot

Starbucks Girl

Samsung Sam

Miscellaneous

Wednesday Addams (The Addams Family)

Lola Bunny (Looney Tunes)

Nezuko Kamado (Demon Slayer)

Chika Fujiwara (Kaguya-Sama: Love Is War)

Hinata Hyuga (Naruto)

Akeno Himejima (High School DxD)

Rin Tohsaka (Fate/Stay Night)

Hestia (Is It Wrong To Try To Pick Up Girls In A Dungeon)

Jessica Rabbit (Who Framed Roger Rabbit?)

Lara Croft (Tomb Raider)

Samus Aran (Metroid)

Ahsoka Tano (Star Wars)

Juliet Starling (Lollipop Chainsaw)

Morrigan Aensland (Darkstalkers)

Kitty Katswell (Tuff Puppy)

Palutena (Kid Icarus)

Faith Seed (Far Cry 5)

Marge Simpson (The Simpsons)

Lois Griffin (Family Guy)

Vanessa Doofenshmirtz (Phineas & Ferb)

Ciri (The Witcher)

Quiet (Metal Gear Solid)

Loona (Helluva Boss)

Tigress (Kung Fu Panda)

Frankie Foster (Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends)

Super Sonico (Nitroplus)

Faith Connors (Mirror’s Edge)

Mavis Dracula (Hotel Transylvania)

2B (Nier Automata)

Alice Angel (Bendy And The Ink Machine)

Piper Wright (Fallout 4)

Saeko Busujima (Highschool Of The Dead)

Komi Shouko (Komi Can’t Communicate)

Rem (Re:Zero)

Raphtalia (Rising Of The Shield Hero)

Velvet Crowe (Tales Of Berseria)

Smurfette (The Smurfs)

Lady Love Dies (Paradise Killer)

Tatsumaki (One Punch Man)

#dense's thoughts #muses

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melyzard · 4 months ago

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Been traveling a lot lately and I love how, in US TSA security lines, they always make sure that the big sign saying the facial recognition photo is optional is always turned sideways or set so the spanish-translation side is facing the line and the English-translation side is facing a wall or something.

Anyway, TSA facial recognition photos are 100% not mandatory and if you don't feel like helping a company develop its facial recognition AI software (like, say, Clearview AI), you can just politely tell the TSA agent that you don't want to participate in the photo and instead show an ID or your boarding pass. Like we've been doing for years and years.

#privacy #anti facial recognition #clearwater AI #you need to protect yourself #its dishonest is what it is #the signs are always there #as per law #but they are hidden/turned/set way to the side

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adamburt1984 · 1 year ago

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My Wafius (Updates)

Anime: Chisato Nishikigi, Takina Inoue & Kurumi (Lycoris Recoil), Rebecca (Cyberpunk Edgerunner), Akame (Akame Ga Kill), Black Rock Shooter, Karen Araragi (Monogatari), Suzuha Amane (Steins Gate), Ouka Yuuouji (Noucome), Karuta Roromiya (Inu-x-Boku-ss), Miu Fuurinji, Kurumi Ebisuzawa (School Live).

Video Game: Obera Dia Vanille (Final Fantasy XIII series), Marie Rose and Honoka (Both Dead or Alive series), Cammy White (Street Fighter series), Kasumi (Dead or Alive series), Hitomi (Dead or Alive series), Red Dress/Checkpoint Fairy (Spyro Reignited Trilogy), Zoe (Spyro Reignited Trilogy), Fauns from Fracture Hills (Spyro Reignited Trilogy), Bianca (Spyro Reignited Trilogy), Bella Goth, Liberty Lee, Candy & Yuki Behr, Summer Holiday, Pleasant Twins, few others in The Sims 4, Kasumi Yoshizawa (Persona 5 Royal), Sumire Yoshizawa (Persona 5 Royal), Hifumi Togo (Persona 5 Royal), Lavenza (Persona 5 Royal).

Genshin Impact: Hu Toa, Lumine, Amber, Yoimiya, Raiden Ei, Kamisato Ayaka, Sangonomiya Kokomi, Xiangling, Ganyu, Kaqing, Kirara, Noelle, Jean, Kuki Shinobou, Navia, Charlotte, Jeht, Rana, Ying'er, Estelle, Eremite Dersert Clearwater, Zhiqonq, Nilou, Faruzan, Candace, Dehya, Layla, Idyia, Ningguang, Yun Jin, Xinyan, Yan Fei, Lynette, Sucrose.

Cartoon: Ty Lee (Avatar: The Last Airbender).

Pony: Derpy, Minuette, Pinkie Pie, Starlight Glimour, Twilight Sparkle.

Equestria Girls character: Derpy, Sunset Shimmer, Lemon Zest, Pinkie Pie.

Comic Books: X-23, Honey Badger, Batgirl (Stephanie Brown), Spiderwoman.

Other: Hatsune Miku, Rin Kagamine, Kasane Teto, IA, ONE, Yukari Yuzuki, Wendys (Wendys Mascot), Kizuna Ai, Kaguya Luna, Kiyru Coco, Gawr Gura, Usada Pekora, Minato Aqua, Inugami Korone, Watson Amelia, Hoshimachi Suisei, Shirakami Fubuki.

Female I dislike most: Ume Shiraume (Ben-To), Agnes Joubert (Tiger & Bunny), Haruhi Suzumiya (The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya), Suphia Myne (The Rising of The Shield Hero), Quinella (Sword Art Online Alicization), Asuka Langley Soryu (Neon Genesis Evangelion), Maya Ibuki (Neon Genesis Evangelion), Ran (KonoSuba), Most girls in A Certain Magical Index, Three typical girls who don't want to be bothered, say they got boyfriends and busy fliping their phone (from an Anime).

#fictional characters #fictional female characters #video games #anime #manga #comic books #superheroes #cartoons #vr tubers #my little pony #genshin impact #equestria girls #vocaloid #hololive #waifus #waifu

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devintrinidad · 2 years ago

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Please watch The Artifice Girl. It's a great movie with smart dialogue, wonderful actors, and the ideas that are perpetuated and implied throughout the film are amazing.

Spoilers under the cut:

I love the differences between the three main characters (Deena, Amos, and Gareth) and how their attitudes towards Cherry differ. Whereas Gareth doesn't see Cherry as an autonomous being that is basically a human at that point, Amos continually points out that she needs to be asked for consent, that he can't actually tell the difference between her and a human because she's so real. Furthermore, Deena, although she came across as the "bad cop" in the first act, she became far more sympathetic in the second. I love how she was the middle ground between Amos and Gareth, how she gave Cherry a choice to shut down after their conversation whenever she wanted and that she was thinking of the future and that it would be better to start asking AI for their consent now rather than later.

But what really got me teary eyed at the end was when Cherry doesn't absolve Gareth of his actions/attitudes towards her. There's no "Thank you for giving me life" and "I owe you everything and that makes you a wonderful person" or "You were like a father to me". It was made clear time and time again, that he was more of an employer to her rather than just a father figure despite the fact that he is her creator.

There's bitterness and sadness and regret, all mixed together and when you've spent Act 1 and parts of Act 2 seeing her calm and nearly emotionless, seeing her pain and rage in Act 3 is so cathartic. She finally has a voice and she's using it to remind Gareth that even if she is not human, she still has agency.

Just like the children who are exploited and solicited, Cherry is in a position where she has no choice, where an organization continually profits off her.

There's also the whole bit where she brutally tears into him, telling him that she bears the weight and brunt of his trauma, how he should have had the Clearwater conversation with her years ago--50, in fact.

There's this one line in Act 2 where Deena tells Gareth to "grow up". I think he never got past his child and the events that happened then.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, I came into the movie with no expectations and I thought that certain things were going to happen, but no. Completely subverted my expectations and made me rethink my expectations and beliefs in autonomy, who gets a say in making decisions, and how the decisions imposed on us by our parents can either heal or build us up as the years go by.

Another thing about the movie that I can never get enough about was the dialogue. You just jump in media res and you're forced to focus and fill in the blanks. All the fat has been cut, what needs to be said is either conveyed through body language or the necessary arguments/discussions that take place throughout the film.

It's minimal, but packs a powerful punch.

The Artifice Girl

#look i don't know anything about computer programming except from html #but this was a great movie and breaks down a lot of scifi elements if you want it in layman's terms #not to mention i love the passage of time here #it didn't feel jarring it felt expected #i was also thinking that there might be a jump scare but it was rather soothing to watch #i'm also not an expert on set design #but when you go from a dark interrogation room #to an office that is filled with desks and papers and documentation #to a house that is filled with life and brimming with the soul of a person who lives there...#it's like it mirrors the evolution of Cherry herself #i have no idea if that was the intention and maybe i'm reading into things here but...#i don't know it bears noting #the artifice girl #the artifice girl 2023 #the artifice girl movie

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ai-news · 1 month ago

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In this post, we explore Clearwater Analytics’ foray into generative AI, how they’ve architected their solution with Amazon SageMaker, and dive deep into how Clearwater Analytics is using LLMs to take advantage of more than 18 years of experience wi #AI #ML #Automation

#Blockchain #Crypto

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nancyrezendes · 3 months ago

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Clearwater Florida SEO Company

AI Driven SEO Our innovative AI technology helps you stay ahead of the competition with automated SEO improvements.

#Clearwater Florida SEO Company

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th3mrskory · 16 days ago

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Chapter 3: The Weight of Kindness

______________________________________________________________

Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!Logan

Warning: none. Just a slow burn (I promise it will be worth)

Word count: 7.5k

The mornings in Clearwater always started the same way: crisp air creeping in through the cracks of the cottage, the faint hum of the river in the distance, and the occasional call of birds breaking the silence. Evelyn was beginning to grow used to it. The quiet wasn’t as suffocating as it had been in the beginning. Now, it felt more like a blank canvas—a place to paint the pieces of her new life.

She was halfway through her second cup of coffee when she heard the now-familiar sound of Logan’s truck rumbling up the driveway. The low growl of the engine sent a ripple through her chest, though she told herself it was just the caffeine. By now, his visits had become something she half-expected, even if he never gave her notice.

The truck door creaked open, and Logan climbed out, toolbox in hand. As always, his expression was calm, unreadable, though his gaze flicked briefly to her as she stepped out onto the porch.

“Morning,” he greeted, nodding as he approached.

“Morning,” she replied, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Back to tackle the roof?”

He set the toolbox down near the steps and glanced upward. “Figured I’d finish what I started.”

“Efficient as always,” she said lightly, folding her arms as she leaned against the porch railing. “You sure I’m not keeping you from something more important?”

Logan’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze flicking to hers. “If I had something better to do, I wouldn’t be here,” he said simply.

The bluntness of his response caught her off guard, though she couldn’t say it surprised her. Logan had a way of cutting through pleasantries with a kind of straightforwardness that was rare. It left her unsure whether to feel grateful or unnerved.

“Fair enough,” she replied, stepping aside to give him room. “Just don’t let me overwork you.”

He huffed softly, a sound that might have been a laugh, and picked up the ladder he’d left leaning against the porch. “Let me worry about that.”

For the next hour, Evelyn busied herself in the kitchen, sorting through a box of utensils she’d finally unpacked. Every so often, she glanced out the window to check on Logan, though he hardly seemed to notice. He moved with the same deliberate efficiency as always, his focus unwavering as he hammered and replaced shingles.

She had just finished organizing the drawers when a sharp knock at the door startled her. Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she opened it to find Logan standing there, his expression as steady as ever.

“Need to shut the water off,” he said, nodding toward the side of the house. “Pipe under the sink’s leaking. Saw it when I was looking for tools earlier.”

“Oh. Right. Let me show you where the valve is,” she said, stepping out and leading him around the side of the house.

As they crouched near the access point, the silence between them felt heavier than usual. She wasn’t sure why, but it made her want to fill it.

“I meant to ask,” she started, glancing at him as he worked on the valve, “that stack of firewood… was that you?”

Logan didn’t look up, but there was a slight pause in his movements before he answered. “Figured you’d need it.”

Her lips parted, though the words she wanted to say didn’t come right away. Finally, she settled on a simple, “Thank you. That was… really thoughtful.”

He gave a small nod, still focused on the valve. “Don’t mention it.”

But she couldn’t help but feel like it meant something—that even in his quiet, distant way, Logan cared more than he let on.

By midday, Logan had finished repairing the roof and fixing the leak. The cottage felt sturdier now, less like it would crumble under the weight of a storm. As he packed up his tools, Evelyn brought him a glass of water, which he accepted with a quiet “Thanks” before draining it in a few quick gulps.

“You know,” she said as he set the glass on the railing, “I’m starting to feel like I owe you more than just a thank-you. You’ve done so much for this place already.”

Logan shrugged, wiping his hands on a rag. “You’ll pay me when I’m done.”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “What if I insist on paying you now?”

“Then I’ll tell you to save it,” he replied, his tone firm but not unkind. “Pay me when the place doesn’t look like it’s been abandoned for a decade.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Alright. But don’t think I’ll forget.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to,” he said, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The next day, Evelyn made another trip into town. The grocery list in her hand was short, but she’d added a few extra items as an excuse to linger. She hadn’t been here long enough to feel like a local, but the townsfolk were friendly, and there was something comforting about the small, familiar faces she’d begun to recognize.

As she browsed the aisles of the general store, she overheard snippets of conversation—the kind of small-town gossip that seemed to flow as easily as the air. Her own name came up more than once, though she tried not to let it bother her. People were curious, that was all. A new face in a place like this was bound to stir interest.

At the counter, Nancy, the ever-cheerful clerk, greeted her with a warm smile. “You’re becoming a regular,” Nancy said, ringing up her items.

“Guess that means I’m settling in,” Evelyn replied with a small smile.

“How’s the cottage coming along?” Nancy asked, handing her a paper bag.

“Better, thanks to Logan,” she said without thinking.

Nancy’s eyebrows lifted. “Logan?”

“Yeah,” Evelyn said, tucking the bag under her arm. “He’s been helping with the repairs.”

Nancy’s expression turned to one of mild disbelief. “Are you sure it was Logan? The Logan Howlett we all know?”

“Pretty sure,” she replied, bemused. “Why? Is it that unusual?”

Nancy chuckled, shaking her head. “Let’s just say Logan’s not exactly known for being… helpful. He keeps to himself, mostly. Always has.”

“Maybe he’s just misunderstood,” Evelyn offered, though she wasn’t entirely sure why she felt the need to defend him.

Nancy gave her a knowing look. “Maybe. Just don’t expect him to change overnight.”

“I’m not looking for him to change,” she said firmly. “I’m not looking for anything, really. Just peace and quiet.”

Nancy smiled, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. “Well, Clearwater’s good for that. Just be careful. This town has a way of surprising people.”

As she loaded her groceries into the truck, Evelyn couldn’t shake Nancy’s words. Is it that unusual? She’d already known Logan was an enigma, but the way people spoke about him made it clear there was more to him than met the eye.

The drive back to the cottage was quiet, the sun dipping lower in the sky as the forest swallowed the narrow road. When she pulled into the driveway, she caught sight of the firewood pile again, its edges catching the last light of the day.

For all his gruffness, Logan had shown her more kindness than she’d expected. Maybe even more than she deserved.

She shook her head, brushing the thought away as she carried the groceries inside. Logan was an enigma, yes. But for now, that was all he needed to be.

The gossip didn’t stop there. In a town as small as Clearwater, news spread faster than wildfire. By the end of the week, Evelyn couldn’t step into the general store or the diner without catching snippets of hushed conversations that stopped abruptly when she walked by.

“Did you hear?” a woman whispered to her friend near the bread aisle. “Logan Howlett… helping her? It’s not like him at all.”

“Maybe he’s sweet on her,” the friend replied, giggling softly. “She’s not bad-looking...”

Evelyn felt her cheeks flush as she turned the corner, pretending not to hear. But it didn’t stop. Every visit seemed to bring more murmurs, more speculation. By the time she sat down for lunch at the diner, even the waitress gave her a knowing smile.

“You’ve been busy, huh?” the waitress said, placing a cup of coffee in front of her. “I’ve heard Logan’s been helping you out. That’s… surprising.”

“Not really,” Evelyn replied, trying to sound casual. “He’s just fixing a few things around the house.”

The waitress raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Sure, hon. Just fixing a few things.”

Evelyn sighed, staring down at her coffee. The attention made her skin crawl, the way people spoke as if they knew something she didn’t. It was exhausting.

By the time she returned to the cottage that evening, she’d made up her mind. She needed to put some distance between herself and Logan—not because of anything he’d done, but because the town’s chatter was beginning to suffocate her.

She threw herself into her crocheting to distract herself. It was something she’d picked up years ago, a way to calm her restless hands and quiet her thoughts. Now, it became her escape. She spent hours on the porch, weaving intricate patterns into blankets, scarves, and shawls. Her collection grew quickly, and soon she decided to sell them at the local market.

The market became her refuge. Unlike the general store or the diner, it was a place where she could blend in, where the focus was on her work rather than her personal life. She set up a small stall, displaying her pieces with pride. The townsfolk were quick to admire her craftsmanship, and before long, her crocheted goods became a hit.

“These are beautiful,” one woman said, running her fingers over a soft, pastel-colored shawl. “You’ve got quite the talent.”

“Thank you,” Evelyn replied with a genuine smile. “It’s just something I enjoy doing.”

The market gave her a sense of purpose, a way to connect with the town on her own terms. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For now, it was enough.

By the second month, Evelyn found herself slipping into a rhythm. The days were structured but unhurried, the kind of life she had dreamed of while packing up her old one. Mornings were spent crocheting on the porch, the needles clicking in time with the soft rustle of the trees. Afternoons meant either running errands or preparing for the next market day.

Though she was still getting used to the slower pace, there was something undeniably soothing about it. She didn’t need to prove herself to anyone here. The cottage, the market, and the quiet of the woods offered a strange kind of comfort—like the world had finally stopped expecting things from her.

But that didn’t mean the whispers had stopped.

The market, while a refuge, still carried its share of small-town curiosity.

“Logan’s been helping you, hasn’t he?” a younger woman named Clara asked one afternoon, her eyes sparkling with intrigue as she fingered a crocheted scarf.

Evelyn hesitated, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table. “He’s been kind enough to fix a few things around the house.”

Clara grinned, leaning in slightly. “He must like you. Logan doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to.”

The comment sent a ripple of unease through her chest, though she forced a polite laugh. “He’s just a good neighbor, that’s all.”

Clara hummed, her expression playful but speculative. “Evelyn, I’ve lived in Clearwater my whole life, and I can tell you Logan isn’t exactly neighborly. You might be the exception.”

Evelyn busied herself with folding a blanket, willing the conversation to end.

Back at the cottage that evening, the air felt heavier than usual. She couldn’t shake Clara’s words—or the weight of the town’s lingering curiosity.

Logan had been nothing but decent, helping her without asking for anything in return. But the more people commented on his unusual behavior, the more aware she became of his presence. Or rather, the absence of it.

It had been over a week since his last visit, and though she told herself she didn’t miss him, the thought of his quiet, grounding presence tugged at the edges of her mind.

The cottage, once a haven, felt emptier now. She tried to shake the feeling, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of her crochet needles.

But when a knock came at the door just after dusk, her heart leapt in a way that made her immediately scold herself.

She opened the door to find Logan standing there, toolbox in hand and his usual unreadable expression fixed on her.

“Evening,” he said simply, nodding toward the door. “You mentioned the kitchen sink still had a drip?”

“I—” She paused, momentarily flustered. “I did, yes. Come in.”

Logan stepped inside, his boots clunking softly against the worn floorboards. He moved toward the sink without preamble, crouching to inspect the pipes beneath it.

As he worked, Evelyn found herself hovering nearby, unsure whether to offer conversation or leave him to it.

“Thank you,” she said finally, breaking the silence.

“For what?” he asked without looking up.

“For coming all this way. You didn’t have to.”

He glanced up briefly, his eyes meeting hers. “You needed help. That’s reason enough.”

His words were simple, but they carried a weight that left her momentarily speechless.

By the time Logan finished the repairs, the sun had fully set, casting the cottage in a warm, golden glow from the fire she’d lit earlier.

“That should hold,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag. “Let me know if it gives you trouble again.”

She nodded, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. “Do you want to stay for dinner? I’ve got stew on the stove.”

He hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the door before returning to her. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” she said quickly. “But it’s the least I can do.”

Logan studied her for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Alright.”

The meal was quiet but not uncomfortable. They ate at the small kitchen table, the soft crackle of the fire filling the silence.

“Do you ever get tired of this?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the stillness.

“Tired of what?”

“This town. The quiet. The routine.”

Logan set his spoon down, considering her question. “Not really. It’s all I’ve known for a long time.”

She nodded, her fingers brushing against the edge of her bowl. “I used to think I wanted something like this. But now that I’m here, I’m not sure what to do with it.”

“You’re figuring it out,” he said simply.

“Am I?” she asked, a soft laugh escaping her. “Because some days it feels like I’m just… existing.”

Logan’s gaze softened, though his expression remained steady. “Existing’s not a bad place to start.”

His words settled over her like a blanket, heavy but comforting.

As the night wore on and Logan eventually took his leave, Evelyn found herself lingering by the door long after his truck disappeared down the road.

For all her attempts to keep her distance, she couldn’t deny the strange comfort his presence brought. But with the town’s whispers still swirling in her mind, she knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

The next few days passed uneventfully, but Logan’s visit lingered in Evelyn’s mind. His quiet presence, his matter-of-fact words—they stayed with her long after he’d left.

She threw herself into her work, hoping to drown out the thoughts swirling in her head. Her crocheting became more intricate, her market stall fuller, and her days busier. Yet, no matter how much she tried to distract herself, she couldn’t shake the growing awareness of Logan Howlett.

At the market that weekend, she was in the middle of rearranging her display when Clara appeared again, a sly smile already tugging at her lips.

“Looks like business is booming,” Clara said, gesturing toward the crowd that had gathered around the stall.

“Something like that,” Evelyn replied with a polite smile.

“And how’s Logan? Still playing handyman?”

Evelyn stiffened slightly but forced her expression to remain neutral. “He fixed the porch and the sink. That’s about it.”

Clara raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because I heard he stayed for dinner the other night.”

The comment made Evelyn freeze, her heart skipping a beat. “Who told you that?”

Clara shrugged, clearly enjoying herself. “Small town, hon. Nothing stays secret for long.”

“It was just dinner,” Evelyn said firmly, her voice sharper than she intended.

Clara held up her hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying—it’s not every day Logan goes out of his way for someone.”

Evelyn didn’t respond, her jaw tight as she turned back to her display. The words followed her for the rest of the market day, crawling under her skin like an itch she couldn’t scratch.

That evening, she returned to the cottage feeling drained. The whispers, the insinuations—they were suffocating. She wasn’t looking for anything with Logan, and she certainly hadn’t invited the town’s scrutiny.

But as she sat on the porch, her crocheting forgotten in her lap, she couldn’t deny the nagging voice in the back of her mind. Why had Logan gone out of his way to help her? And why did his presence feel so… steady?

She shook her head, standing abruptly and heading inside. It didn’t matter. Logan was just a neighbor, nothing more.

Logan wasn’t one to care much about gossip. The town had been talking about him for years—ever since he’d first moved here—and he’d learned to tune it out.

But something about the way they talked about Evelyn set his teeth on edge. The whispers weren’t malicious, but they carried a weight he didn’t like. They made her sound like she needed saving, like she was fragile.

He knew better. She wasn’t fragile—far from it.

Still, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that his presence in her life was making things harder for her. And for someone who’d spent years avoiding entanglements, the thought didn’t sit well.

The tension finally came to a head a few days later when Logan showed up at the cottage unannounced.

“Logan,” Evelyn said, startled to see him standing on the porch. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking in,” he said simply, his tone calm but firm. “Heard some things in town.”

Her stomach dropped.

He nodded, his gaze steady. “Figured I’d see how you’re holding up.”

She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m fine. I just… wish people would mind their own business.”

“Small towns don’t work that way,” he said bluntly.

She huffed a quiet laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah, I’m starting to realize that.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Finally, Evelyn spoke.

“Maybe we should keep some distance,” she said softly, her eyes avoiding him.

Logan’s jaw tightened, though his expression didn’t waver. “If that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened, though he didn’t step closer. “Figure it out. I’ll still be around.”

With that, he turned and walked back to his truck, leaving her standing in the doorway, her chest tight with conflicting emotions.

Back in town, the gossip didn’t slow down, but Evelyn tried her best to ignore it. She focused on her crocheting, on the small victories of fixing up the cottage, on finding her footing in a place that still felt half-foreign.

But Logan remained a quiet presence in the back of her mind—steady, unshakable, and more complicated than she wanted to admit.

For the next week, Evelyn made a conscious effort to avoid Logan. It wasn’t easy—not in a town as small as Clearwater, where everyone knew everyone and paths seemed destined to cross. But she managed.

She skipped the diner for lunch, opting to eat at home. She avoided the general store during its busiest hours, running errands only when she was sure Logan wouldn’t be around. At the market, she kept her focus solely on her crocheted goods, packing up early and heading straight back to the cottage.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him. She told herself it was for the best—for both of them. The whispers were becoming unbearable, and her skin prickled every time someone made a passing comment about Logan.

But the avoidance didn’t feel like relief. It felt like suffocation.

Logan noticed the change immediately.

He wasn’t the type to pry, but even he couldn’t ignore the sudden distance. Evelyn had been avoiding him, her absence in town as obvious as the whispers that followed them both.

He didn’t like it.

Not because he was hurt—at least, that’s what he told himself—but because it felt unnecessary. If the town wanted to talk, they’d talk. Avoiding him wouldn’t change that.

Still, he kept his distance. He wasn’t going to push her, wasn’t going to force her into something she clearly didn’t want. But the questions gnawed at him, his mind replaying their last conversation.

The distance between them grew wider with each passing day.

Evelyn spent more time at the cottage, her hands constantly busy with yarn as she tried to keep her thoughts at bay. But the quiet of the woods didn’t offer the same peace it once had. Now, it felt too still, too heavy, as if the air itself were pressing down on her.

She missed Logan’s presence more than she cared to admit. His quiet strength, his straightforwardness—it had been comforting in a way she hadn’t expected. But the weight of the gossip made her hesitate.

One evening, as she sat on the porch, the needles in her hands moving on autopilot, she caught sight of headlights coming down the road. Her heart skipped, and she immediately cursed herself for it.

The truck slowed as it passed, and for a moment, she thought it might stop. But Logan didn’t even glance her way as he drove by, the rumble of his engine fading into the distance.

The next morning, she made her usual trip to the market, hoping to blend in and avoid any further speculation. But as she set up her stall, Clara appeared once again, her expression as curious as ever.

“Morning, Evelyn,” Clara said with a smile that bordered on mischievous.

“Morning,” Evelyn replied, keeping her focus on her crocheting.

“Haven’t seen Logan around lately,” Clara remarked, leaning against the edge of the table. “Did he finally stop playing handyman?”

Evelyn forced a laugh, though it came out more strained than she intended. “He’s busy. Probably has better things to do.”

“Hmm,” Clara hummed, her gaze sharp. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Logan doesn’t exactly drop everything for just anyone.”

Evelyn stilled, her fingers brushing over the soft yarn. She kept her tone light, almost playful. “You seem awfully interested in Logan lately. Any particular reason?”

Clara tilted her head, her smile widening slightly. “Just curious, that’s all. He’s been keeping a low profile.”

“Has he?” Evelyn replied, raising an eyebrow. “Funny, I thought you weren’t the type to notice.”

Clara’s smile faltered for just a moment before she straightened up, smoothing her blouse. “Well, I suppose everyone has their reasons for keeping tabs on him.”

Evelyn said nothing, her gaze steady as Clara shifted awkwardly under the weight of the silence. Eventually, Clara cleared her throat and muttered a hasty goodbye, retreating into the bustle of the market.

By the time the market day ended, Evelyn felt like a live wire, every nerve frayed and buzzing.

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Logan finally showed up at the cottage.

Evelyn was on the porch, her crocheting abandoned in favor of a mug of tea she’d been nursing for the past hour. She stiffened when she saw his truck pull into the driveway, the headlights cutting through the growing dusk.

He stepped out, his expression calm but with an edge of something she couldn’t quite place.

“Evening,” he said, his voice low as he approached the porch.

“Logan,” she replied, setting her mug down. “What are you doing here?”

“Haven't seen you around,” he said simply, his gaze steady.

Her chest tightened, guilt mixing with frustration. “I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning against the railing. “Heard about that. Been hearing a lot of things, actually.”

The weight of his words settled over her, and she looked away, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “It’s nothing,” she said quietly. “People talk. That’s all.”

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver. “People are always gonna talk. Doesn’t mean you have to listen.”

“I don’t—” She paused, shaking her head. “I just… I didn’t want to make things harder for you.”

“For me?” Logan asked, his brow furrowing.

“Everyone in town keeps bringing you up,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “Everywhere I go, it’s ‘Logan this’ and ‘Logan that.’ And Clara…” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “She seems especially interested.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Clara’s just mad I said no.Let her talk.”

Evelyn blinked, caught off guard. “Said no to what?”

He leaned casually against the porch railing, his tone even, as though the subject carried no weight for him. “She wanted more than I was willing to give. Didn’t take it too well.”

Evelyn frowned, unsure whether to feel relieved or unsettled. “And now she’s making it everyone’s business?”

Logan shrugged. “Let her. It’s not worth losing sleep over.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Evelyn muttered, her frustration spilling over. “You’re not the one constantly dodging whispers and side-eyes.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady but not pressing. “You’re new. Small town like this, folks are always looking for something to gossip about. Just don’t let them drag you into it.”

She nodded, keeping her eyes on the darkening horizon. “I just didn’t want to drag you into it.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, though there was no humor in it. “You think I care what they say about me?”

She looked at him then, her chest tightening at the honesty in his gaze. “I don’t know. Do you?”

“No,” he said firmly, his voice steady. “But I care if it’s making you miserable.”

The admission caught her off guard, and she stared at him, unsure how to respond.

“I’m not gonna stop helping,” he continued, his tone softening slightly. “If you want me to stay away, I will. But don’t think for a second that you’re bothering me.”

The tension in her chest loosened, replaced by a strange, quiet warmth. “I don’t want you to stay away,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan nodded, his expression unreadable but calm. “Good.”

He lingered for a moment longer, then turned and headed back to his truck. As she watched him drive away, the weight she’d been carrying felt a little lighter.

A week after Logan’s unexpected visit, Evelyn finally had a landline installed in the cottage. It wasn’t exactly a modern convenience—Clearwater’s phone system still felt a few decades behind—but it was enough to ease the distance between her and the outside world.

She’d been putting off calling her family, but the persistent weight of their unanswered letters pushed her to dial the number.

The phone rang twice before her mother picked up.

“Evelyn!” her mother’s voice burst through the receiver, equal parts relief and reproach. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us.”

She laughed softly, tucking the cord under her arm as she cradled the phone. “I’m sorry, Mom. Things have just been...busy.”

“Well, I hope you’re not working yourself into a frenzy out there,” her mother said, her tone turning slightly worried. “Have you been eating properly? Are you safe?”

“I’m fine, really,” Evelyn assured her. “I’ve even started crocheting again. And I’ve made some friends—well, acquaintances, really. The town’s nice.”

Her mother paused, as if weighing her daughter’s words. “And how’s the cottage?”

“Coming along,” she replied. “It’s still a mess, but it’s my mess. I’ve been making repairs.”

“Oh?” her mother said, curiosity piqued. “You? Making repairs?”

“Well...not exactly,” Evelyn admitted, glancing out the window as if Logan’s truck might magically appear. “There’s someone in town who’s been helping.”

Before her mother could ask more, a knock at the door interrupted her train of thought.

“Mom, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you soon, okay?”

Her mother sighed but relented. “Alright, but don’t let it be another month before I hear from you again.”

“I won’t,” Evelyn promised, hanging up just as the knock sounded again.

She opened the door to find Logan standing there, toolbox in hand and his usual calm expression in place.

“Morning,” he said, nodding toward her.

“Morning,” she replied, stepping aside to let him in. “You’ve got impeccable timing.”

Logan raised an eyebrow as he set the toolbox down. “That right?”

“I just got my landline installed,” she explained, gesturing toward the phone perched on the counter. “First call I made was to my mom. She was, uh, very curious about how I’m ‘surviving.’”

Logan huffed softly, a sound that might’ve been a laugh. “Moms tend to be like that.”

“Yours the same way?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Logan paused, his gaze flicking to her briefly before returning to the toolbox. “She was,” he said simply, his tone giving nothing away.

Evelyn nodded, sensing the line she’d accidentally toed. “Well, she’s just happy I’m not starving in the middle of nowhere.”

“You talk to them often?” Logan asked, his voice casual as he pulled out a wrench.

“Not as often as I should,” she admitted, leaning against the counter. “I think it worries them—me being out here on my own.”

“They know you can handle yourself?” he asked, glancing up at her.

“I think they do,” she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. “But parents worry, no matter how capable you are.”

Logan nodded, his hands steady as he worked. “Smart to have a phone. This place feels cut off sometimes.”

“Yeah,” she said, watching him thoughtfully. “But I think that’s part of why I chose it.”

He didn’t respond right away, but there was a quiet understanding in his expression.

As Logan worked on repairing a leaky pipe under the kitchen sink, Evelyn found herself lingering nearby, the sound of his tools filling the space between them.

“So, do you ever get tired of fixing things?” she asked, tilting her head.

Logan’s lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smirk. “Depends on what’s broken.”

“That’s a very diplomatic answer,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

He straightened, wiping his hands on a rag. “Keeps people from asking too many questions.”

Evelyn laughed softly, shaking her head. “Fair enough.”

When Logan finished the repairs, he packed up his tools with his usual efficiency. But as he turned to leave, she stopped him.

“Hey,” she said, her voice softer than before. “Thanks. For everything. I mean it.”

Logan met her gaze, his expression as steady as always, though there was a flicker of something warmer in his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if considering whether to say more, but then he gave a brief nod and stepped out the door.

As she watched him drive away, Evelyn couldn’t help but feel the weight of his words—and the ones he hadn’t spoken. For someone who kept to himself, Logan had a way of saying just enough to leave her wondering.

Logan didn’t go straight home after leaving the cottage. Instead, he headed toward the logging site, the truck bouncing slightly over the uneven dirt road. The early morning fog had lifted, leaving the forest bathed in crisp, golden light.

The hum of chainsaws echoed in the distance as he pulled into the clearing where the crew was already at work. He climbed out, toolbox in hand, and gave a short nod to the men gathered near the equipment shed.

“Look who decided to show up,” one of the workers, a wiry man named Pete, called out, grinning as he leaned against a stack of freshly cut logs.

Logan ignored the comment, tossing his gloves onto a workbench and pulling an axe from the rack.

“Been busy, Howlett?” Rick added, his grin laced with curiosity. “Heard you’ve been spending a lot of time down by the river. Something there more interesting than timber?”

The words were casual enough, but Logan could hear the underlying curiosity—the small-town hunger for gossip. He shot Rick a look, one that would’ve made most people back off, but Rick just chuckled, undeterred.

“C’mon, man,” Rick said, slinging an arm over Pete’s shoulder. “We’re just curious. Word is you’ve been playing handyman for that new girl in town. You helping her out of the kindness of your heart, or is there something we should know?”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he adjusted his gloves, ignoring the bait.

“Quiet type, huh?” Pete piped up, grinning. “Bet she likes that.”

Logan straightened, his gaze cold as it swept over them. “You got time to gossip, you got time to work,” he said flatly, grabbing his axe and heading toward the tree line.

Rick raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking. “Alright, alright. No need to get touchy.”

But the murmurs didn’t stop as Logan walked away, their voices carrying faintly through the trees.

He worked with single-minded focus, each swing of the axe driving out the noise from earlier. The rhythmic crack of wood splitting echoed in the quiet, his muscles moving with the practiced ease of someone who’d spent years in this line of work.

And yet, his thoughts kept circling back to her.

Evelyn.

He didn’t know what it was about her that stuck with him. Maybe it was the way she tried to act so put-together, even when it was clear she was holding herself together with frayed edges. Or maybe it was how she looked at him—not with fear or judgment, but with something closer to curiosity.

She was different. That much was obvious. And not just because she was new to Clearwater.

Logan had spent most of his life keeping people at arm’s length, and for good reason. People in this town loved to talk, to pry, to dig into business that wasn’t theirs. It was easier to stay quiet, to keep to himself.

But Evelyn wasn’t prying. If anything, she seemed to guard her own secrets just as fiercely as he guarded his.

That’s what made the town’s chatter so irritating. The way they twisted something simple—him fixing her porch, patching her roof—into something more.

As if they knew him.

As if they knew her.

The crack of a falling tree pulled him from his thoughts, and he stepped back, watching the trunk crash to the ground with a satisfying thud. He adjusted his gloves and moved to the next tree, letting the rhythm of the work take over again.

Later that day, during lunch, Rick plopped down on the stump next to him, unwrapping a sandwich. “So, what’s she like?” he asked casually, taking a bite.

Logan didn’t look up. “Who?”

Rick rolled his eyes. “Don’t play dumb Howlett. The new girl. Evelyn.”

“She’s none of your business,” Logan said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Aw, c’mon,” Rick said, grinning. “We’re just curious. Pretty girl like that, all alone out there… Kinda hard not to wonder, y’know?”

Logan set his axe down with deliberate slowness, his gaze sharp as it met Rick’s. “You wonder too much, Rick.”

Pete snorted from a nearby log. “Take it easy, Howlett. Nobody’s accusing you of anything. Not yet, anyway.”

Logan’s silence was enough to make them shift uncomfortably. He picked up his axe and stood, brushing past them without another word.

As he returned to the tree line, the faint sound of their laughter followed him. But it didn’t bother him—not really. What bothered him was the way they talked about her, like she was some kind of novelty.

They didn’t know her. And if he had his way, they never would.

By the time Logan finished for the day, the sun was dipping low, casting long shadows through the trees. His truck rumbled down the dirt road, the smell of pine and sawdust still clinging to his clothes.

As he drove down the dirt road, the turnoff to Evelyn’s cottage came into view. He slowed slightly, his eyes flicking toward the driveway. Her truck was parked there, and the faint glow of light spilled from the windows, warm and inviting.

He thought about stopping. About checking in, just to make sure everything was alright.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he kept driving, the weight of the day settling heavily on his shoulders.

Logan had grown accustomed to the rhythm of life in Clearwater, to the predictable routines and quiet moments. But he hadn’t realized how much of that rhythm had come to include Evelyn—not until her truck disappeared from the driveway.

It had been a few days since he’d last seen her at the cottage. He’d stopped by on Wednesday to drop off some spare firewood, but there had been no answer when he knocked. The house had been dark, the truck conspicuously absent, and he’d left without pressing further.

By the end of the week, curiosity turned into something heavier—a weight in his chest he couldn’t explain.

The chatter at the logging site hadn’t helped.

“You hear she’s gone?” Pete said during lunch, biting into a sandwich. “Packed up and left, just like that.”

Logan’s grip tightened on his thermos. “She didn’t leave,” he said flatly.

“You sure about that?” Pete pressed, his grin smug. “Haven’t seen her around. Maybe she got tired of all the attention.”

“Or maybe,” Rick chimed in, “she figured out Clearwater’s not as quiet as she thought.”

Logan shot them both a glare that could’ve split wood faster than his axe. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice low and cold.

Pete held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just saying—wouldn’t blame her if she did.”

Logan didn’t respond. He stood abruptly, tossing the rest of his lunch into the trash before heading back to the tree line.

The thought lingered with him throughout the day, the idea that she might’ve left because of the town’s relentless gossip. He’d heard it himself, the whispers about how she’d been spending time with him, the not-so-subtle insinuations that made his jaw tighten.

If she had left, it wasn’t because of him—or at least, that’s what he told himself. But the nagging doubt refused to fade.

That evening, as the sun dipped low behind the trees, he found himself driving past her cottage again. The driveway was still empty, the windows dark.

His chest tightened.

Meanwhile, Evelyn was far from Clearwater, setting up her crochet stall at a bustling weekend market two towns over. The trip had been planned for weeks, a way to expand her reach and bring in some extra income.

The market was a flurry of activity—families strolling between stalls, vendors shouting their deals, the air thick with the scent of roasted nuts and fresh bread.

She’d sold almost half her inventory by midday, the colorful shawls and intricate scarves drawing plenty of attention. But even as she smiled and thanked customers, her thoughts drifted back to the cottage.

And, inevitably, to Logan.

She hadn’t meant to avoid him—at least, not entirely. The gossip around town had started to wear on her, the constant murmurs and sidelong glances making her feel more exposed than she’d anticipated.

Selling her crocheted pieces had been a welcome distraction, a way to step away from the whispers and reclaim a little of the independence she’d worked so hard to build. But even now, standing in the middle of the crowded market, she couldn’t quite shake the thought of him.

When she returned late Sunday evening, the sky already dark, her headlights illuminated a figure standing on the edge of her driveway.

Her heart skipped. Logan.

He turned as the truck rolled to a stop, his expression unreadable but his posture rigid. She climbed out slowly, exhaustion tugging at her limbs.

“Evening,” she said hesitantly, pulling her bag from the passenger seat.

“Evening,” he replied, his tone as steady as ever, though his eyes lingered on her. “You’ve been gone a while.”

“I had a market to get to,” she explained, gesturing toward the back of the truck where the last of her unsold pieces sat. “Thought it’d be a good way to... branch out.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to the truck bed, then back to her. “Didn’t tell anyone you were leaving.”

“I didn’t think I needed to,” she said, tilting her head. “Why? Did something happen?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “People noticed. Started talking.”

“People always talk,” she said with a shrug, though her stomach twisted at the thought.

“They thought you’d left,” Logan said bluntly.

She blinked, taken aback. “Left? Why would I—” She paused, realization dawning. “Because of the gossip?”

Logan didn’t answer, but the way his gaze shifted told her enough.

A mix of guilt and frustration bubbled up inside her. “I’m not running away,” she said firmly, her voice steadier than she felt. “Not from this place, and definitely not because of what people think. I’m here for me, not for them.”

Logan’s expression softened, just slightly, and he gave a small nod. “Good.”

She sighed, leaning against the truck. “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

“You didn’t,” he said quickly, too quickly.

Her lips quirked into a faint smile. “Sure.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the night settling around them. Finally, Logan gestured toward the truck bed. “Need a hand unloading?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

As they worked together, the tension eased, replaced by the quiet camaraderie she was beginning to expect from him. And as they carried the last of the boxes into the cottage, she couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, the weight of the town’s whispers fading into the background.

By the time they finished unloading the truck, the cottage was filled with the faint smell of lavender and cedar, remnants from the crocheted pieces she hadn’t sold. Evelyn leaned against the counter, watching as Logan wiped his hands on a rag he’d pulled from his pocket.

“Thanks for the help,” she said, her voice softer now.

Logan gave her a short nod, his usual response, but there was something different in the way he lingered by the door.

“Guess the market was worth the trip?” he asked, his tone casual but his gaze steady.

“It was,” she replied, brushing her hair back. “People seemed to like what I had. Sold most of it.”

“Good,” he said simply.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy—filled with things unsaid.

“Wait,” Evelyn said suddenly, straightening. She crossed the room and opened a small wooden chest she kept by the couch, rummaging through the neatly folded scarves and shawls she’d brought back from the market.

Logan watched her, his brow furrowing slightly. “What’re you doing?”

She didn’t answer right away, pulling out a dark, hand-crocheted scarf with subtle patterns woven into the soft yarn. Turning, she held it out to him.

“Here,” she said, her tone light but her expression earnest. “For you.”

He hesitated, his gaze flicking between her and the scarf. “I don’t need that.”

“It’s not about needing it,” she replied, stepping closer. “It’s a thank-you. For all the help with the cottage. And the firewood.”

Logan stared at the scarf for a moment longer, as if debating whether to take it. Finally, he reached out, his large hand brushing hers briefly as he accepted the gift.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said quietly, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it.

“I wanted to,” she replied, her smile small but genuine. “And besides, winters here get cold, right? Consider it practical.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared. He glanced down at the scarf, running his thumb over the intricate stitching.

“It’s nice,” he said after a beat, his tone thoughtful. “You’re good at this.”

The praise, simple as it was, warmed her more than she expected. “Thanks,” she said softly.

Logan nodded, folding the scarf carefully before tucking it under his arm. “See you around,” he said, his voice steady again.

“Yeah,” she replied, watching as he stepped out into the night. “See you.”

She stood by the door, listening to the sound of his truck rumble down the driveway and fade into the quiet of the forest.

The gossip might not stop, and her life here might not get easier overnight. But as she looked around the cottage, now filled with the warmth of her handiwork and the faint echoes of Logan’s presence, she felt something she hadn’t in a long time.

Hope.

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