“Wait, Silas—” Just as he pivoted to face her again, Phoebe threw her arms around him, the embrace so sudden that Silas entirely short-circuited, his brain signals frying into oblivion. This close, he could smell every layer of her perfume, from the initial wave of jasmine to the deeper traces of something heavy like whiskey. “Thank you,” she said, her words muffled against his chest. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” He lifted his hand, settling it on her back. “That’s okay,” Silas said. His voice was steady in a way that he absolutely wasn’t. “This is far from an arduous task.”
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