Cillian finished his lunch and knew he couldn’t linger even if he wanted to. What finally drew him out of the booth was the sound of his phone ringing, Mac’s name on the screen when Cillian pulled it out of his pocket. “I have to get back to work.”
Bran worried his bottom lip between his teeth. Cillian fought the urge to reach over the table and touch his fingers to Bran’s mouth. “Come by the Shoppe tomorrow.”
Cillian didn’t know who was more surprised at the offer, Bran or himself. He nodded hastily as he stood. “I will.”
He finally answered the call, pressing the phone to his ear and holding it there with his shoulder so he could dig out his wallet and leave enough cash on the table to cover his lunch and theirs. He left before Bran figured it out.
“Dunne speaking,” Cillian said.
“The medical examiner made it to the scene, and the police have taken it over. I need you back at the station for your report,” Mac said.
“I’m on my way.”
He didn’t want to leave, but at least he left knowing Bran had invited him around tomorrow, and maybe they could work past the ache of impulsive, painful teenage decisions. It felt like a long shot, but Cillian was willing to try. He left the diner and was halfway to his truck when Bran called out to him. “Cillian!”
He jerked around, as if strings were tied to his body and leading back to Bran. “Yeah?”
Bran stood outside the door, arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t speak right away, and Cillian found himself returning to the diner, coming to a stop in front of Bran. With Bran on the porch, they were at eye level, and Cillian could see how Bran was biting his lower lip. “Do you have your iron on you?”
It was the same question Mac had asked, and he shouldn’t have been surprised Bran would ask it, too. Juliana always had. Cillian was always so forgetful of the iron in his pocket, and he was beginning to think all the stories he’d grown up on were more than just superstition. “Always.”
Bran’s shoulders slumped a little. “Good.”
They stared at each other for a few moments, the air hot between them, and Cillian wasn’t sure he could blame the summer sun. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach for Bran, but he didn’t have that right, not now.
Maybe not ever.
Finally, Bran stepped back, and Cillian had to fight not to reel him close. “See you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Cillian promised. He forced his feet to move because he had a job to do, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking over his shoulder when he was halfway across the parking lot, seeing Bran looking back at him.
Bran was the first to turn away, retreating into the diner. Cillian tucked away all the messy emotions tangled around the man he’d never forgotten and headed for his truck, focusing on the job ahead and not the past behind him.
Chapter Five
“Listen,” Bran said as he opened yet another cupboard in the Shoppe and started moving items around, making sure to get eyes on every inch of the space. “How long does it take to become a legal guardian? Will the government come and take Aisling from me if I don’t have anything filed on time?”
“You’re her immediate family, and DCF prefers those kinds of placements. My understanding is the police in Pelham notified them, and a counselor spoke with you yesterday?” Thomas said. The lawyer Tina had put him in touch with seemed all right so far and hadn’t sounded condescending or anything.
“Someone came by yesterday afternoon.”
The woman had driven in from Amherst, spent less than an hour with him after their lunch at Red’s Diner, and left Aisling in his care. Bran was glad he hadn’t needed to use magic to change her mind. Compulsion wasn’t something he liked to use, and his mother had always frowned on the spells that took away someone else’s autonomy. Just this once, though, if it had been necessary, Bran would have done it.
“You have a job, and you have somewhere to live. That’s more than some people can give their kids.” The sound of rustling papers filtered over the line. “I can have the paperwork drawn up, and we can getit filed within the week. It’ll necessitate you driving into Boston to meet with me. Unfortunately, Pelham doesn’t have a courthouse, but we can file online in the one in Hampshire.”
Bran closed the cupboard door and settled back on his heels. He ran a hand through his hair, yanking on it lightly out of frustration. “Does it need to be this week? I have a funeral to plan.”
“I understand. The sooner, the better would be preferred, but Aisling won’t be displaced from your care if we take a few weeks to get everything in order.”
“Great.”
“Give me a call in a week or two, whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks.”
Bran ended the call, not in the mood to deal with legal things, but knew he needed to if he wanted to keep Aisling and get full control of his mother’s business and bank accounts. The short call he’d had with Tina that morning to set up a more in-depth meeting indicated they had a lot to go over. Part of Bran didn’t want to have that meeting because it would truly mean his mother was gone. Denial was a creeping sort of insanity Bran knew he couldn’t succumb to, even if part of him desperately wanted someone else to take over being the adult. But at newly twenty-five, hewasthe adult.
He stood, eyeing the next set of cupboard doors in the cabinet set against the wall. Bran wasn’t doing inventory so much as looking for any sort of hidden space his mother could have stashed the grimoire. So far, he was coming up empty-handed, and the panic he’d managed to shove aside was back, skittering through his bones. Mac hadn’t located the grimoire in the house, which Bran still hadn’t set foot in. The ranger had handed off another load of clothes and shoes when Bran returned to the station yesterday afternoon to name and put to rest the latest body taken from the woods.
