Page 23 of To Regret a Raven

Her mind settled as her sister’s words calmed some of the turmoil in her heart, and Drie navigated to the contact she hadn’t touched in over a month. She loosened a sigh as she unblocked him, praying she wasn’t a fool.

Drie: Thank you for explaining.

A mere moment later, as she stepped into an ancient campus building, a text pinged with Fisher’s custom tone—the famous four claps from theFriendsshow.

Then it pinged again. And again. And again. She didn’t fight the clipped laugh that arose as she opened the messages.

Fisher: Hey!

Fisher: Thank you for unblocking

Fisher: And seriously, thank you for listening

Fisher: Sorry, I didn’t set out to blow up your messages

Fisher: Don’t block me again please

There was a long pause where the dots came up and disappeared, rose and fell, and then one last message pinged.

Fisher: I miss you

12

GIVE UP

Abead of sweat trickled down Fisher’s neck as he walked along the sidewalk, and he sighed, shrugging out of the jacket he’d just put on. October weather was so unpredictable. It would be forty degrees in the morning, and then an easy seventy-five by the time lunch rolled around.

Typically, the sun would have been much lower when he left the shop, but they had all been sent home early due to a plumbing issue, so it blazed high in the sky as he reached Drie’s apartment.

Every weekend, Fisher walked by twice on the way to and from the shop. The distance was far enough to justify driving, but he liked the exercise. And deeper down, in that lizard brain, he knew it was the idea of accidentally crossing paths with her that had him climbing out of bed half an hour earlier than necessary.

He’d not seen her in person in over a month. Every morning, he would text her as soon as he woke, inviting her to have breakfast with him at the diner. And every morning, she would decline the offer.

As the days progressed, he tried to keep the correspondence to a minimum, so as not to overwhelm her. Her declines were the only messages Fisher got from her, but he was grateful for them, because they meant she was actually receiving the messages.

But whenever he had a thought, like how he missed her laugh…Whenever he stumbled across something that he knew she’d love, he would shoot her a message, just hoping it would make her smile. Just letting her know that he was thinking of her.

Drie held all the cards in the situation, but Fisher didn’t mind. As long as she continued to respond, he’d keep trying.

But just as he rounded the corner to bring the front of her building into view, he was brought to a hard stop at the sight that greeted him.Maverickwas standing at the front door of the building, holding it open for Drie as she stepped out into the sun.

She was wearing dark jeans and a light, casual sweater, but even from a distance, he could tell she’d put thought into it. Her hair was curled, her makeup artfully subtle. She looked the same as when he used to pick her up for date night. The same as the night he’d broken her heart.

His jaw tensed as Maverick extended a hand, and he swallowed hard when her grip slipped around the other man’s elbow instead. Her eyes fell to the steps as they moved down the sidewalk, but then returned to Maverick with a laugh at whatever he’d said to her.

Fisher’s hands fisted at his side as he watched, longing to be in Maverick’s place as she continued to stare up at him. She’d used to look athimthat way, her eyes full of warmth and laughter. It was a far stretch from the guarded, wary manner in which she’d watched him in the alley behind the diner.

The entire scene was over just about as quickly as it began when Maverick held the door for Drie to climb into the carwaiting at the curb. And he was helpless to do little more than watch as they drove right past where he stood, staring after them.

Fisher started to walk again, one foot in front of the other, not paying attention to his surroundings until he’d reached their spot by the river. He dropped into his designated swing, his breathing fast and hard, deep inhales through his nose that sawed their way through his chest, unable to fill his lungs.

She had told him it would happen. She’d made him promise not to react.But how? How am I supposed to live with this? How am I supposed to act like things are okay when it feels like she’s taken a hacksaw to my torso, flaying me open for the world to see?

The realization struck him.This is what she was referring to.What he’d been too blinded by his delusions to see.Thiswas the feeling Drie had said she couldn’t bear when she asked him for space. He understood then, if she felt even a fraction of how he felt in that moment, why she was so hesitant. Why she wasn’t responding, and why she was so scared to move forward.

A drop splashed on the back of the hands he held interlocked between his splayed legs, and he tilted his head back, looking for clouds. He found nothing but blue skies as far as his eyes could see, and the next drop trekked a path alongside his nose as a result.

Fisher’s hand reached up, hesitant, swiping at the wetness that lingered on his cheek, before staring down at it in surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried.