Page 6 of To Regret a Raven

Fisher’s eyes narrowed to a squint just as a row of blood-red manicured fingers wrapped around his bicep. The touch was unwelcome, and he was quick to step further onto the porch, brushing away her hold.

“Oh, we’re being like that?” Rena rolled her heavily lined eyes. “You wanna play games? That’s fine.” She winked, her smile predatory. “I like to play.”

“I’m not playing anything, Rena. I’ve got a girlfriend now.”

“What?No, you don’t.” Rena snorted. She glanced to the side, and her smug expression fell as she took in my sister’s grimace. “The fuck? You knew about this?”

“I found out last night,” Brea answered, the bite returning to her tone. “Evidently, he’s been dating someone formonths, and that’s why he hasn’t been coming home to visit. Why he almost missed Tristan’s party.”

“No.” He interrupted quickly. “I told you I had to miss the party forwork, but then my manager, Pat, came through and showed up to cover for me, so I was able to come.That’swhy I was running late. And why I can’t stay,” he lied. His eyes shifted to Rena for half a beat, noting the flush to her cheeks.

That was never a good sign. Rena’s temper was always right there, just an inch beneath the surface. She was passionate and impulsive and fierce, but it was exhausting to keep up with her.Any little thing could set her off. The emotions were a sort of high for her. She was always primed for a fight and looking for a target.

He could feel his ire rising to match hers. She was uniquely skilled at riling him up. Ever since they’d been children, she knew exactly how to draw out a reaction, to get him right where she wanted him. His head was already buzzing when he met her furious glare.

But for once, in the face of Rena’s growing anger, Fisher didn’t feel the need to react. This time, instead of engaging, he felt a gnawing urge to leave. To back away and exit the same way he’d arrived.

“Why didn’t you bring her then? Are you embarrassed of her?” Rena began, the toe of her high heel tapping a rapid beat against the ancient planks of the porch. The tapping stopped as a sly smile stole across her lips. “Worried about making me jealous?”

“No,” he answered, shaking off the question. “I just…didn’t. It was a last-minute decision to come and—Well, we’re still pretty new.”

“Still new?” Brea rejoined the conversation with a bemused huff. “You said it’s been going on for months. If you’re not ready to introduce family aftermonths, it doesn’t sound very serious.”

“I—”

“It’s okay if you want to explore, babe.” Rena sidled closer. “But you know that you and I belong?—”

He stepped back, avoiding the claws she extended his way. “I need to leave.”

“But you just got here. And Tristan…”

“Tristan has a lot of people here. He’ll be okay,” he answered, shoving the gift into Rena’s arms as he slipped around her and hurried down the steps.

“Fisher, you can’t just—” Brea yelled.

“Love you too, sis. Call you later,” he called back, a moment before he yanked the car door shut and twisted the key.

Fisher swipedat his nose as he stepped off the sidewalk into the park, and the floral aroma of spring made itself known. His foot caught on the edge of an exposed root, causing him to stumble forward a couple of feet, and he paused, grinding his teeth as the annoyance flared hot.

The day that followed his brief appearance at Tristan’s party had proven to be one slow, downward spiral into madness. It was Saturday, so he’d traded his library badge for the coveralls he wore to work in the shop, changing oil and replacing tires in the oppressively muggy heat one learns to expect out of spring in Alabama.

With his shirt plastered to his body, a blackening bruise along his wrist, courtesy of his uncooperative wrench, and one arm so splattered in filthy, errant oil that he looked like he boasted a full blacked-out sleeve of tattoos, Fisher was approximately one irate customer away from turning them all into a headline by the time the shop closed its doors.

He’d intended to go straight home, shower, and then find Drie. For two months, that had been his weekend MO. But after the day he’d had, he didn’t even realize he’d left the path early until he stood at the edge of the park, a smile curving his lips as his eyes foundher.

He always met her there, in that middle ground between their buildings. In the beginning, they’d simply sat on the swings and chatted until the sun would set beyond the water’s edge—and on one memorable occasion, until it rose once again.

After a time, they’d started going for walks around town, which then progressed to going to dinner. Looking back on how it occurred, Fisher didn’t remember ever formally asking her out. They never discussed where they wanted things to go or who they were to one another. He’d told Brea that they were together, but he wasn’t sure Drie would even agree to such a statement. All he knew for certain was that being with her was as natural and essential to him as the breath filling his lungs.

She glanced up in that moment, a grin brightening her eyes as she turned the swing sideways to watch him approach.

He’d never dated a woman like her before. His only true foray into dating had been with Rena, a woman who was essentially Drie’s polar opposite. Rena would’ve been disgusted by how dirty he was. She would’ve demanded he leave. That he be clean in her presence. But Drie…She looked at him no differently than how she looked at him in the library, when he was wearing his freshly-pressed polos.

“Watch out,” Fisher warned as he slipped past her, careful not to touch. “The oil stains everything. I was going to shower before coming, but I don’t even think I realized I was here until I saw you sitting there.”

Drie’s brows bunched as she tilted her head, her eyes assessing. “Are you okay?”

“It’s just been a long day,” he answered with a shrug, turning his swing to mirror hers.