“I need you to promise me something, Lettie,” she said, the nickname she’d given me as a baby when I couldn’t say my own name. And just like her gaze, her voice was suddenly clear. Intentional, even in its softness. “There are many times in life when our heads are louder than our hearts—so loud they can overwhelm us, make us lose our way. But dreams? Theythrivein our hearts. Follow them, and you’ll never be lost.”
I tell him the story—one I’ve never shared with another living soul.
“I promised her I’d always follow my dreams. That I’d never let anything push me off my path, whichever path I chose. And now, every time I think about losing Kettle and Cauldron, I feel like I’m letting her down, and I… I can’t…”
I turn away from him and grab a tissue from the desk, wiping away my tears and forcing a fresh smile.
“Anyway, the foster stuff… it’s all in the past now. Yes, it sucked at the time, but ultimately, it molded me into the woman I am today. A perfectionist—okay, yes, occasionally problematic. But also a woman who dreams big and doesn’t give up easily, even when the deck is stacked against her. How could I not be grateful for that?”
Devlin smiles, but it’s as sad as his energy, heavy with the weight of his own losses, his own fears. “Being grateful for the outcome doesn’t mean we can’t acknowledge the pain of the experience. That, too, is part of figuring it out. No way around it, I’m afraid.”
Tears prick my eyes again, and I look away before they can spill.
It’s taken years of practice, but these days, I can typically sense the edges of people’s energy fields. The border where their feelings end and mine begin. But something about Devlin blurs everything in a way where it all just feels like… likeours. This vast, shared experience and wordless understanding you can spend your whole life searching for with another person and never, ever find it.
And somehow, I’ve found it with the Devil.
I turn back to him, overcome with the sudden urge to hug him.
He returns the embrace, one hand cradling my head, the other holding me close, just… justbeingwith me.
“I’m sorry for hurting or embarrassing you in there, Violet,” he whispers, stroking my hair. “The last thing I want is to put that worry in your heart or drudge up painful memories. But I can’t sit back and let you succumb to—”
The front door swings open, and I’m swamped with the energy of… well. A swamp. That’s exactly how it feels. Cold and fetid. Stale. Teaming with things you don’t want to look too closely at.
I know at once who it is.
“Brandt?” I turn to face him, my lip curling involuntarily. “Why are youhere?”
He takes in the sight of me and Devlin, still wrapped up in each other’s arms. Clearing his throat, he says, “I’m meeting a friend from New York. He’s staying at the inn a few days, checking out some properties in town. Why areyouhere?”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Um, my aunts live here?”
“Oh! That’s right. I knew that.” He glances at Devlin, offers a bullshit man-nod. Another awkward throat-clearing, then back to me.“I’m actually glad I ran into you again. We never got to finish our conversation the other day.”
“I’m ninety-nine percent sure all our conversations are finished, Brandt. So what, exactly, are you talking about?”
“The Halloween Ball? I figured you wouldn’t have a date, so I thought I’d do you a solid and offer to take you.”
“Do me asolid?”
Devlin leans close and mutters into my hair, “Really sweeping you off your feet, this one.”
Ignoring Devlin’s comment, Brandt sighs and shakes his head. “Violet, why are you always making things so difficult? I’m offering you a chance to go to the ball as my date. Lots of women would kill for the opportunity.”
“We best alert the police commissioner,” Devlin says, “lest the murder rate skyrocket overnight.” He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me in close again. “Very kind of you to offer, Brandt, but your services won’t be needed. Violet and I are attending the ball together.”
My heart jumps into my throat, but I don’t dare contradict this breaking newsflash. Watching Brandt’s face contort like melting candle wax is its own reward.
“So you two are, like… a thing?” he asks, still with the melty face.
Devlin wraps his hand around the back of my neck, giving it a possessive squeeze that sets off a string of sparks all the way down to my—
“We’re, like,manythings,” he says. “Would you care for the full list? A diagram, perhaps?”
“Excuse me?”
“Violet is a rich, complex woman, Mr. Remington cubed. Onethingwould no more encapsulate her than it could the vastness of the world’s oceans.”
