by Tl Reeve
“It did. A misstep is all.”
“Right.” Nate nodded and looked over to Hobbs. “He misstepped into a rock I threw at his head.”
Hobbs nodded.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tanner mumbled.
“Okay, that’s fine. Your memory could be hazy from the liquor or the rock to the head. I get it.” Nate stood from the chair and began to pace. “Do you ever make it out to the farm for Festival, Tanner?”
“I’m not a big believer in all that crap.”
“Which crap is that?” Nate asked. Tanner snorted and shook his head. “No, I mean it. Which crap? That matchmaking bullshit?”
“Yeah, that crap too.” Tanner nodded in agreement and cracked a smile. Nate made a sound to let him know that they were on the same page, that Nate wasn’t judging him. “You know, that crap that the elders are somehow special. Like they have all the power and the rest of us need their approval.”
“Right,” Nate said, sensing Tanner was happy to talk so long as Nate agreed with him.
“What the fuck do they know?”
“Sure. But the season, you can still celebrate that. And the woods out there, the elders don’t own them. Those are our lands, right?” Nate knew this argument well. There were many witches who had moved away from the traditions of the elder witches, but who still celebrated Festival, and they still wanted to be able to celebrate out in nature like they had for generations.
“Of course, those are our lands. The elders might own that farm, but not all that land. And so yeah, I still go out there.”
“Were you out there this past weekend?”
“You know I was.”
“I do know you were, yes.”
“Look, I didn’t touch that woman.”
“We might have a difference of opinion there, but that’s not what I’m interested in right now. I want to know what you thought you could get from her,” Nate replied calmly.
Tanner grinned and leaned against the door of his cell. “Come on, man, you know what they were saying. A healer was going to Festival.”
“And you needed a healer?”
The smile fell away from Tanner’s face and he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Still do.”
“To sell?”
“No, I’m not into trafficking. But a healer, you know, that’s a powerful thing to have. And some of us aren’t so healthy. Some of us need medical care we can’t afford and whatnot.” Tanner shifted again, his eyes down on the ground.
Nate sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I know. But she’s not a healer. And even if she were, she’s a person, not a commodity.”
“I already got a lecture from legs over there,” Tanner grumbled, jerking his head toward Hobbs.
“You’re getting more than a lecture,” Nate replied.
“I know it. I ain’t saying what I did was right. Only that I needed that woman. Or rather a healer. And she could have been it.”
“You got anyone else ready to make a move on her?” Nate asked.
“I’m not the one to worry about. As long as people think she’s the healer, you’ve got problems. But I’d already heard rumors she’s not when legs picked my ass up. Heard she’s got health problems too. Nothing so special, just looking for the elders to help her. Like me, you know. Just need some help.”
Nate nodded. Aubrey probably wasn’t going to like that the new rumor involved her being sickly, but at least word wasn’t out that she could be a dragon. Hobbs signaled that they should get going.
As they headed back to the main office, Nate asked Hobbs, “So what’s wrong with him, medically?”
“Nothing’s wrong with him. His sister has cancer and they can’t afford the treatment,” Hobbs replied.
“No insurance?”
“Even with insurance, cancer treatment is expensive, Evans. Shit, medical care of any kind can break the bank in this country,” Hobbs grumbled.
“Yeah,” Nate said softly. He wondered how much Aubrey had thrown at trying to get a diagnosis. More than she could afford, he guessed. “It’s fucked up.”
Hobbs snorted in agreement before leaning forward for the retinal scan to get out of the high-security corridor. “Real fucked.”
10
It had been two days since Nate had dragged Aubrey to that funny bookstore to talk with Quincy and Summer. And Aubrey was proud to say she hadn’t blown any smoke in that time, or gone black-demon eyed.
She’d also managed to not touch Nate. Part of her wondered if he was avoiding her, too, and not just in an attempt to stave off any more dragon-ish reveals. Maybe he’d lost interest in her. She couldn’t really blame him. Who would want to date a woman with scales under her skin?
Her gaze drifted to the clock on her desk. It was nearly 7:00 p.m. and she still had another hour of work to do. The first few days of work, he’d loitered around the building, then outside on the lawns of the university. Finally they’d agreed that he could drop her off at work, and pick her up, and so long as she didn’t need to leave the building for some reason, he could go about his day without hovering around her.
They’d also agreed to talk to Walt. They hadn’t told him everything—not even close. But Nate had said enough to take suspicion away from the idea that she was a healer, or that she’d stolen power. And he’d done it without saying the word dragon. What he had suggested was that he could look for Aubrey’s parents, and hope to get answers on her health issues from them. Walt had agreed.
“Ms. Dalton, you have a visitor,” Margaret, one of the other professor’s TAs said from her doorway. Margaret was busting her ass trying to get a few more publications under her belt, and Aubrey was learning the student was often here late into the night, even though campus was basically closed for the holidays.
“Thank you. Send him in,” Aubrey replied. I guess Nate got tired of waiting for me to call him. She returned to the printouts in front of her, skimming over the last few pages of the publication, highlighter in hand.
“Bree, you shouldn’t work so late.”
She dropped the highlighter at the sound of Walt’s voice.
“What are you doing here?”
“Detective Evans was at work when I left, so I assumed that meant you were still here. I want to talk with you.”
She nodded and motioned for him to sit in the empty chair across from her desk.
“I talked with the Elders, and it seems that word has gotten out that you’re not a healer. I think Jaina Moore might have something to do with that. She has quite the influence around Waldenburg. Anyhow, Detective Hobbs brought in Tanner Ulster. He’s the ringleader of the gang trying to abduct you.”
Aubrey nodded as her uncle talked, but she wasn’t fully present, her attention split between Walt and the papers in front of her. What does this mean?
“What I’m trying to say is you’re getting your apartment back. You won’t have Detective Evans hanging around, watching your every move.”
She let the pages in her hand drop onto her desk. “Oh.”
“Oh? I’d thought you’d be excited. I know you hated that I forced him upon you.”
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She’d been pissed that Walt had tried to manage her life, and she was annoyed that she was stupidly attracted to a man who was only around because her uncle forced him to be. But there was no way in hell she was telling Walt any of that. She definitely wasn’t going to tell Walt that she’d been daydreaming about those hands of his, and how much she wanted to have him inside her again.
She tried to find a smile. “No, that’s great news. Then I guess I don’t need to be worried about anyone coming after me?”
“Exactly. And I wanted to tell you first. I probably should have let Evans know so he could have gone home a few hours ago, but he seemed deep down an investigative path, and I wanted you to hear the news from me.”
She really hoped she didn’t look as disappointed as she felt. She forced enthusiasm and went around her desk to hug her u
ncle, assuring him she was very happy, and that she knew they’d continue to work to find her parents.
“It’s a simple enough task, finding your parents, Bree. Anyone there can handle it if Detective Evans ends up consumed by the Mansfield case,” Walt said as he headed for her door.
“The what?”
“The case he was working on before I reassigned him to you. I know he’s eager to solve it. It consumed him for months. I know once he’s back in the trenches on it, he’ll get it solved.” Walt had a look of pride on his face. Aubrey knew he loved his detectives, each one like family to him.
“Wonderful,” she replied, heart sinking.
She was already drowning in her own work. The only time she saw Nate was when they sat on her couch eating dinner and recounting their respective days. In such a short time, she’d become accustomed to having him there. She’d even thought they were friends. But now he was getting a new assignment, and it sounded like he’d be just as busy with his work as she was with hers. And she didn’t have an excuse to see him anymore.
Someone was attempting to break down Aubrey’s front door with their fast and angry knocking. She still had the sauce spoon in her hand when she yanked the door open. Nate took one look at her and then pushed her inside, slamming the door behind him.
“What the fuck, Aubrey?”
“Excuse me?” She put her hand under the spoon to catch the dripping marinara sauce.
“I said, what the fuck?”
“Yeah, I just don’t know why,” she replied, turning back for the kitchen. She ran her tongue along the spoon and smiled. Yep, that was good.
“Of course, you don’t. Well, Blondie, I went by the university at 9:00 p.m. confused as to why you had never texted me to say you were done with work. I was ready to drag you out of there and insist you eat something before you turned into some fire-breathing terror demon—”
“Is that necessary?” she asked, with a glance over her shoulder.
“—and you weren’t fucking there!”
She stirred the sauce and then checked the pasta. It was done. “Okay, and?”
“And that’s not the deal, Blondie. I walk you to work, and I pick you up. If you have to go someplace for a meeting, like over to the humanities building, I meet you on those dumb fucking steps and walk you down the street. I wait outside, and then I walk you back. That’s the fucking deal. You walking home by yourself is not the deal.”
He was grabbing dishes as he talked. Two bowls. Two forks. A strainer for the pasta. A second wine glass—she already had one. With a smirk on her face, she watched him move around her kitchen like it was his own. If this had been Summer, Aubrey would have smacked her hands away. No one messed with her kitchen while she cooked. Except Nate. And he could do what he damn well pleased because he was actually helpful. He didn’t get in the way. Or over-salt the potatoes.
“Walt didn’t call you?” she asked. Nate had the pot with the pasta and was about to pour it into the strainer in the sink.
“What now?” he asked.
“I’m not your problem anymore, Detective Evans.” She watched the pasta slide out of the pot, steam erupting up in a cloud. And then she watched Nate turn. His hands were free of the pot and strainer. But both continued to move behind him without need for his physical assistance. The strainer shook out the extra water from the pasta. A bowl moved across the counter, and the perfect serving of noodles were lifted into the air and the placed inside. Aubrey watched it all for a minute, and then looked to Nate.
“You’re not a problem,” he said softly.
“You know what I mean. You’re free to get back to the Marsfine case.”
“Mansfield,” he corrected.
“Right, that one.” Her gaze darted to the wooden spoon she’d been holding moments before. It was now pouring sauce over the noodles in the bowls.
“When did he tell you this?”
She looked at the oven clock. “Around seven.”
“Okay.” He nodded, and the spoon dropped into the pot. Everything stilled.
“But you’re welcome to stay for dinner.” She tried to sound cheerful. Nate looked angry. And she had no idea why. Sure, she hadn’t called him, but she thought Walt had told him.
“No, you’ve got your own stuff to do. I’m just going to grab my bag,” he said before leaving her standing alone in the kitchen.
Well, fuck.
She grabbed both forks in one hand, and then grabbed a bowl in each hand before heading to the living room. “Nate, come on. There’s plenty of food. And it’s late. You should eat before you go home. I’m sure your fridge is empty. And really, plenty of food.” She held up the bowls for him to see.
He took one from her, and they sat next to each other while they ate. Unlike the last five nights, they didn’t talk. He finished eating while she still had half a bowl left. After taking his dish to the kitchen, he returned and silently packed his bag.
She should have said something. Anything really would have been better than nothing. But instead, Aubrey watched.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said, now at the door, his bag on his shoulder.
“Yeah, of course.”
And then he was gone. She stared down at the red sauce in her white bowl. That sucked. And if she’d held out any hope that they were friends, it was pretty clear now they weren’t. He’d been there for his job. That job was done. Now he was gone.
Had she really expected him to stay? He’d made it clear that what they’d shared, briefly, had been a mistake. And yet, she’d thought maybe he wasn’t touching her because he was scared of what happened when they did touch. Not that he didn’t want to touch her. She so desperately wanted to kiss him again, to have him hold her. To have him moving inside her.
She looked at her front door, half expecting him to come back. After a good five minutes, she stood, took her empty bowl to the kitchen, and began the process of cleaning. Cleaning would make her feel better.
11
Nate wasn’t sure his eyes were working correctly. He was working on four hours of sleep, and so maybe he was having trouble seeing clearly. He turned his computer monitor to the right as far as it would go.
“Hobbs, does this say Brandt?”
“Forgotten how to read the English language, Evans?” Davis asked from his desk across from Nate’s.
Hobbs went ahead and raised her middle finger to the Fae on Nate’s behalf.
“Sure does. Sophia and William Brandt. Why?” Hobbs replied.
Finley’s head popped up at the names, and Nate knew he wasn’t misremembering.
“Riley’s parents?” Finley asked.
“Who now?” Davis asked.
“My cousin’s best friend. Riley Brandt. His parents were Sophia and William. Killed in a car crash while he was in high school,” Finley explained. He shot Nate a questioning look. “Why are you looking into them?”
Aubrey would hate him if Nate told anyone else before he told her. Making some excuse about an appointment across town, he grabbed his coat, furiously texting while he shrugged it on. He’d met Riley a few times. They’d run into him at happy hour. Riley Brandt was a twenty-five-year-old graduate student at Waldenburg University. And just this moment, Nate couldn’t remember a damn thing about what he looked like. Was he blond like Aubrey? Were his eyes green? Weren’t they brown?
He made it to the university in record time, largely aided by hitting every green light and no reds. Nate didn’t miss the irony that Aubrey’s brother could be working at the same university where she’d just started. On the way to the physics department, he’d found Riley’s name in the directory, and now he was standing outside the office the graduate normally shared with other PhD students. Because only a few students and professors were still on campus, Riley was alone in the office.
“Riley?” Nate asked when he stepped inside. Brown hair, not blond. But yes, green eyes. And his face was similar in shape, his nose the same. This man was related to Aubrey Dalton. Nate was sur
e of it.
Riley pushed back from the desk before he answered. “Oh, hi. You’re Evans, right? You work with Ian.”
He nodded. “Nate.”
“Right, Nate. Is something wrong? Is Chuck okay?” Riley was moving to stand, worry on his face.
“Chuck is fine. I mean, I think she is. I haven’t seen her in. . .months. I don’t actually know.” Nate stammered. He didn’t keep track of Finley’s cousin.
“Okay,” Riley said, sitting, confusion wrinkling his brow. “Can I help you with something?”
“I hope so. I have a. . .” Shit, what was Aubrey? “Friend. She’s been going through some stuff lately, and well anyway, I was looking for her parents.”
“Okay,” Riley replied with a nod.
“And I—well, Riley, I don’t suppose your parents ever discussed that they might have had, uh, another child before you.”
Eloquent as shit.
“Wow.” Riley blinked a couple of times. “Yes, they did, actually. I mean, they didn’t talk about it often, but yes.”
Nate grabbed the back of the chair in front of him. Holy shit. “Okay, great. And did they say if maybe this child was a girl?”
“Do I have an older sister I’ve never met? Yes. I mean, I hope I do. I have no idea if she’s still alive. But I’m guessing you have an idea.” Riley looked at him expectantly.
“I really hope I do, yes.” Nate said. And the he sat. Please, tell me I’m right.
“Wow. Just. . .wow. You found Brianna.” Riley looked stunned, but excited.
“Who?” Nate asked. Fuck.
“I—sorry, that’s what I named her. My parents always called her Brie, like the cheese. But I thought that was weird. I called her Brianna. It means strong, or exalted. That’s how I pictured her. Strong.” Riley rambled, his excitement visibly growing. Despite the strong physical resemblance between Riley and Aubrey, Nate still worried that he was wrong. He didn’t want to crush Aubrey or Riley if it turned out they weren’t related.
