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She snorted. “No, but it makes them drunk. How much did he drink?”
“One shot of espresso,” I said.
“That’s akin to a human who can’t handle his liquor drinking a twelve-pack of beer. You better put him to bed and let him sleep it off, once the jitters die down.”
“Is there a danger he’ll aspirate? He’s already thrown up once,” I said. I had no desire for my dragonette to go the way of Jimi Hendrix, John Bonham, and Bon Scott.
“Probably not, but you can lay him on his stomach and make sure his neck is straight and his face hanging over a pillow.” She sighed. “Don’t let him talk you into things—they’re good at that. And if they have a playful personality, they’re likely to push you to go along with all sorts of things that they’re better off not trying.”
I sighed. “Well, he’s out cold right now. Hopefully I didn’t kill him.”
“What are your plans for the day? Are you helping out your friend Darla?”
“No, there’s nothing more I can do till they clear the crime scene. I did text her to let me know when that happens.” I paused, then said, “So, Faron’s coming over at noon. I’m still not sure what he wants to talk to me about and the more I think about it, the less sense it makes. Wolf shifters steer clear of our kind.”
May laughed. “I know, but Faron never does anything without a reason. His testosterone is oozing out of his pores. But he’s smart. He’s the Alpha of his Pack for good reason. The man has brains.”
I snorted. “Well, I guess that’s saying something. Anyway, I’m going to clean house this morning. It was getting messy to start with, and now I have dragonette urp to clean up. Say, did Bran say he was coming over today? With all the chaos last night, I can’t remember.”
“Yes, in fact he’s finishing up his breakfast and is about to head over to plant your herb garden. Honestly, he was so upset about you being punched last night that letting him do this will give him a sense that he’s at least done something to help out. Bran’s chivalrous, as old-fashioned as the notion might be. He’s not a rescuer, thank gods—I couldn’t take it if he brought home every woman who thought she was Cinderella, waiting for a prince to make everything all better. But Bran does stand by an honor code when it comes to women.”
That was reassuring to hear. I didn’t allow jerks and maggots—my inclusive term for all the misogynists, incels, gamer gaters, and male chauvinists out there—into my life.
“I’ll see him when he gets here,” I said. “Tell him I’ll make him lunch. I’m a good cook, when I want to be.”
As I hung up, I heard a faint burp. I glanced over at Fancypants, who was snoring. Luckily, in his sleep, he puffed out steam rather than smoke.
* * *
By the timeI had cleaned up the dragonette vomit and started rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher, Bran showed up at my door. He was looking good this morning—better than I had remembered him—and was wearing a form-fitting tank top over jeans. His eyes sparkled and he flashed me a crooked smile.
“How are you doing? How’s the eye?”
I shrugged. “The pain’s down, though it’s going to get uglier before it gets better. I haven’t heard from Darla this morning. I’ll call her later to see how they are.”
“Well, if you’re okay, then I’ll get started. The herbs are by the workshop, it looks like?”
I nodded. I had lined them up outside the workshop to acclimate to the air. “Yeah, they are. I’ll come help in a bit as soon as I finish vacuuming.” I detested housework, but it needed to be done. I disliked dust and clutter even more.
“No hurry,” he said. He clattered down the stairs and headed over to the workshop. I watched him go. He was comfortable in his body, it was easy to tell by the way he moved.
I went back to my chores. Once a week, I cleaned the house, and—on a different day—once a week I did the laundry. It kept things from piling up.
As I washed the counters, I thought about the official opening for my business. I’d waited long enough for the licenses, and now I had them. I had the space, and I had all the supplies I needed. I just needed to get them in order and hang up my shingle.
So why don’t you? You could have had everything ready by the time the business license arrived.
I didn’t like it when my brain kicked out facts to me like that. I folded the kitchen towel and hung it over the range handle, then sat down at the table with my day planner, doodling as I forced myself to face the fact that I was afraid.
What if I can’t make it? What if I’m not good enough?Both were frightening thoughts. But then that annoying voice whispered again,You know that’s not the reason. What’s the real reason you haven’t gotten off your ass yet?
I thought it over for a bit. What was I afraid of? It couldn’t be success—I was driven and ambitious. That was one of the things Rian had loved about me—my drive and my goals. He had been my biggest cheerleader and it tore me up that he wasn’t here to watch me carry out my dream. Of course, I’d planned on doing this in Port Townsend—opening an herb and spell shop—but regardless of where it was, I was still on track.
And then it hit me. He wasn’t here to see me do this… Rian wasn’t here and I was moving into my future without him. I was moving on, and that meantI was leaving him behind.
“Oh gods,” I said, pressing my hand to my lips as my stomach knotted. By moving ahead with my life, I was leaving him in the past and that meant his death was real—he wasn’t going to magically come back into my life. He wasn’t going to reappear to create a fairytale ending to a nightmare of a story. “Rian…”
“Are you okay?” Fancypants flew into the room, a worried look in his eyes. He settled down on the table, beside me.
