Page 12 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

“Try eyeballs.” I slouched back in my chair.

“Does that mean you’ll be wanting some tea?”

“God, yes.”

She laughed and went back to the counter.

I had awful jitters if I drank too much caffeine, and since I’d already had two cups of coffee, herbal tea was the safer bet.

Iris returned with tea and a chicken salad sandwich on a croissant. “On the house. To help you get through your ex issues. And your grading.”

“Are you sure? I can pay.” I glanced at my watch. How was it already past lunchtime?

“Absolutely sure. You look like you need this and we have plenty. Don’t think we’re going to sell out today.”

“Thank you so much.” I promptly scarfed the sandwich down.

More texts came from Ambrose throughout the day.

Until the point where I was sick of it and pushed my phone into my bag, determined not to look at it again. Eventually, I made a dent in my work and headed home, saying goodbye to Iris. The Roost closed early on Saturday and Sunday evenings.

Basil and Sage were ready for dinner promptly at five each evening. So I set my things down and fed them. Once they were finished, I let them out for some free roam time, ate a quick meal of boxed cheesy mac, then got back to work.

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of grading and irritation.

Ambrose’s texts continued. I blocked every number that came in, but he remained one step ahead. I wasn’t sure how he was doing it. There was probably some kind of website or app.

Eventually, he’d get bored and give up.

Right?

There were dark shadows under my eyes by the time Monday morning rolled around. Somehow, I’d managed to get all my assignments graded and a lesson plan cobbled together, even if it meant staying up past three in the morning. Which meant most of my first lecture was a mess.

My phone rang and I jumped. This time, I was careful to check the number.

My class had already filed out and the lecture hall was blessedly empty.

The first thing I said when I picked up was, “If you gave Ambrose Blackthorn my new number, I’m going to drive across the country and literally strangle you.”

“Jeez. Calm down, sis.”

“Did you do it? God, Robbie. Tell me you didn’t. I gave you that number in confidence.”

“I didn’t. Relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax! Now I really am going to strangle you.”

“I said I didn’t!” He groaned.

“If you didn’t, then⁠—”

“I might have given it to Mom.”

“What?!” I screeched. “You… Robbie! How could you?! Damn it!”

“Sorry,” he said, sounding mildly apologetic. “She kept getting on my case about it. You know how I crack under pressure.”

I let out a sound of annoyance. “She must have given it to him during their little lunch thing or whatever.”