Page 24 of To Regret a Raven

His breath caught on an exhale as he wiped the tear on his pants, blinking hard as he turned his eyes to the river before him and the trees lining either side. The leaves were just beginning to lose the richness of their color around the edges, fading into shades of deep browns and warm reds. It hallmarked the end of the year, encroaching swiftly, and Fisher could do nothingagainst the way his throat tightened, his breathing growing more shallow, wondering if that was truly meant to be the end of their relationship as well.

Am I hanging on to something that’s over? Is she just humoring me?His heart told him no, but he’d witnessed it for himself. The proof of Drie giving up. Moving on.What am I meant to do to stop it?He’d caused it. He had no one to blame but himself.

The regret swelled within until it felt like there was no more space for it. Nowhere else for it to go as it consumed him entirely, pressing against his skin as the tears continued to flow, spilling over as he contemplated the sick irony of his situation. How he’d walked away from the love of his life because he wanted her to have somebody who felt as strongly as he did in that very moment.

And it was too fucking late.

If Maverick ends up being that man for her…Fisher sucked down a shaky breath at the thought, swallowing the sob that rose in his throat. He gritted his teeth, telling himself that he would be happy for her, no matter what.

But for as long as there is still a chance…Fisher clenched his jaw, nodding to himself. He refused to give up.

13

I’M SORRY

In the days that followed their talk at the diner, Drie steadily shored up her defenses, bracing herself to be love-bombed. And yet, with every day that passed, she felt more and more foolish, like she’d readied an armada to march on an ant hill.

Retrospectively, Drie wasn’t sure why she had expected him to overreact. It wasn’t Fisher’s style in the least. He’d always been the strong and silent type, watching situations play out while maintaining his distance, quietly analyzing. Prior to their implosion, he hadn’t been spontaneous at all, which was, ironically, one of the things that had attracted her to him the most.

Drie had always gravitated toward people who behaved in predictable patterns. She craved dependability. It was why she’d bonded so closely with Jeden and Rosy, despite Sam and Nellie being closer to her own age. Jeden, in particular, was the poster child for predictability—a result of her many medical restrictions. Nellie, the resident madcap, could never be expected to behave in a predictable manner. Sam, on the other hand, was something of an enigma that Drie had never fully understood. She came across quiet and focused, currentlyfinishing up her degree inaccounting, of all things, but there had always been a sharp edge to her silence. Having been only a year behind Sam in school, Drie remembered the many ways she had stealthily manipulated things to work in their favor all too well. Drie loved her sister fiercely, but she’d learned to regard her with a certain degree of respectable wariness after so many years of observational conditioning. There were things going on in her sister’s head that she clearly did not understand.

And after the drama of her breakup with Fisher, and his uncharacteristic behavior in the following weeks, she’d been forced to acknowledge that there was a lot she did not know about him either. She’d found herself flailing, not knowing what to expect or what to believe from a person she’d once trusted implicitly.

So it certainly threw Drie for a loop when Fisher backed off peacefully and held to his word, giving her space, respecting her time, and not bombarding her with public scenes or surprises. He simply texted her a brief message first thing every day, wishing her a good morning and ending with an invitation for breakfast. She always responded with a polite decline, not yet ready to return to the place they’d spent so much time together, swapping stories about life and laughing over their syrupy meals. And each morning, he let it go, not pressing the topic.

Afterward, on most days, he’d send one or two additional messages of inconsequence spaced throughout the day. Sometimes, it was a funny nursing meme that would make her giggle reluctantly. Other times, it was an interesting article or clip from one of the shows they had watched together. But more often than not, it was simply a thought or an image he wanted to share—like a picture of a new book they’d stocked that he thought she may enjoy, or a wish that she could’ve been there with him in that moment.

He had kept that simple exchange going for weeks, despite her obvious lack of involvement. Other than her initial decline to meet each day, she wasn’t responding to him at all. But she did read the messages, and then re-read them, wanting to believe them, her heartwishingshe could. Until she grew angry, all over again, for the feelings of doubt her mind harbored. Telling her it was all just a cruel game that she had never learned how to play. Telling her to ignore the wishes of her heart and choose the smarter path that wouldn’t prove to be emotionally devastating.

“Give him some time. Take it slow.”The memory of Jeden’s voice whispered, and Drie sighed. Her doorbell buzzed, and she gave her reflection in the bathroom mirror one last look over. Her gaze hovered over the mascara and lip gloss she’d applied and the smooth bounce of her freshly curled hair.

Besides attending class, it was her first outing in months, though Drie couldn’t dredge up the slightest hint of excitement. She wanted to blame something, anything—her class load, Nellie’s most recent drama, even her tumultuous feelings—but though she may have hated it, the truth was clear.It isn’t Fisher waiting on the other side of that door.

Rather than address that thought, Drie turned away quickly, rushing out before Maverick got any ideas about being invited inside. He seemed caught off guard as he stepped back to allow her to pass, but as always, he remained unbothered.

When they’d first met, Maverick was simply the ideal class partner, but after enough study sessions, they’d developed an easy camaraderie—especially when the third and fourth members of their project team proved to be as useful as a pair of rocks.

He held out a hand once they reached the sidewalk, and then winked when she took his elbow instead, whispering, “Careful, m’lady,” in her ear as they moved down the steps leading up to her building.

Her laugh was quick and easy as she looked up at him, trying to figure out exactly what was going on in his head. He’d never shown an interest in her before that day at the diner, and he hadn’t brought it up at any of their team reviews since. He’d even seemed surprised when she’d texted him, like he never actually expected her to follow up.

Drie studied his profile as they walked to his car, as he held her door open like a proper gentleman, and as he drove her to the fairgrounds, making idle, surface-level conversation about the upcoming exam in their genetics course.

He was, for all intents and purposes, the ideal date. He was attentive, attractive, clever, and kind. But the thing that kept nagging at the back of Drie’s mind was the fact that he didn’t seem overtly interested in being withher. He was just friendly. Always—andonly—friendly.

“Why did you ask me to come to this?”

Maverick’s eyes widened at the direct question. He tapped the steering wheel with his outermost two fingers thoughtfully, and then finally answered, just as directly, albeit a tad sheepishly, “I love history, and I wanted to come see the cosplayers and the costumes. But I hate going places alone, and none of my local friends would come with me.” He glanced at her. “Please don’t be offended.”

Time suspended for a brief moment as Drie processed his words, and then her giggles cut through the tension like a hot butter knife. Maverick joined, and it quickly escalated into uncontrollable hilarity. The relief she felt spoke more truths that she wasn’t ready to address, so she let it spill out as peals of laughter that had her holding her ribs.

When they walked up to the entrance a few minutes later, wiping tears and chuckling softly, Drie reached over and pushed him sideways. “You had me so damn confused. I was alreadyworking out a plan to avoid a good night kiss. It involved alotof onion rings.”

He rolled his eyes and pointed at her. “First of all, I love onion rings.” He held up a second finger. “Dos, that just sounds like a convenient excuse to eat fried food.” He threw up a third finger. “And third, I know you’ve got some kind of weird dynamic going on with that iceberg man, and I am not trying to get caught up in all that.” He paused and gave her a quick once-over. “But for the record, if you ever did need a rebound, I would happily volunteer my body as tribute.”

Drie snorted and shoved him again, finally relaxing into the experience. They meandered casually through the grounds, interacting with enough actors in powdered wigs for Maverick to be tickled sufficiently pink, and Drie got her fix of fried goodies. They even stumbled across a guy dressed as a Frenchman and snapping whips, who Maverick made her wait to take a picture with, because “that guy will be famous one day.”

All in all, it was a great way to spend a Saturday, and she was feeling more herself than she had in ages when Maverick dropped her back at her apartment. He leaned in with a comical fish-lip attempt at a good night kiss, and Drie stopped his advance with a palm to his forehead. She smiled at his goofy face. “You’re a good one, Mav. Thank you for today.”