Page 31 of To Regret a Raven

Fisher jerked back, his chest heaving as he scrambled to his feet, quickly putting distance between them.Fucking lizard,his inner voice seethed.So much for trust.

He braved a quick glance at her, then turned away, unable to bear the uncertainty in her expression as she tracked his movements around the couch.

“Fisher—”

“I—I need to go,” he mumbled, refusing to look back. “I’ll, uh, see you for lunch tomorrow?”

“Yes, but?—”

He didn’t dare wait. Didn’t dare look back at her disheveled state, her swollen lips. He strode for the door, snagging his shirt off the floor as he went. “I’m sorry, I—just—I’m sorry,” he repeated, his eyes on the handle as he pulled the door open.

“Tomorrow,” he stated again, not even sure what it was that he was promising with the word, only knowing that with his mind spinning, his heart thundering, and the taste of vanilla staining his tongue…He simply didn’t have the words.

17

EMERGENCY CONTACT

Fisher rounded a corner and skidded to a halt, arms windmilling to avoid an oncoming collision with an intersecting bicyclist. He bit back his angry words and checked his watch before launching back into a run, sprinting through a crowded crosswalk and kicking up dust on the pavement as he cut through the campus quad. He’d promised Drie that he’d pick her up at noon, which meant he was already nine minutes late. He’d spent months now—months—rebuilding that foundation.

They’d been making such good progress with the talks, the visit to his family…He’d thought he was on the right track. Until he’d lost his mind the night before. And now, when he was supposed to be explaining himself, making his case for why she should still trust him, he was fuckinglate.

If he had his way, he would have already gone full lizard and locked them both in that apartment for days on end. But she’dexplicitlyasked for time. For friendship. He wanted her to be secure in her feelings. It had just been a moment of weakness the night before. Fisher could keep his hands to himself. Hewould.Even if it meant that he kept a little more distance on Thursdays for a while.

He was fine everywhere else. The park, the library, the diner—where they already should have been ordering, if he’d been on time. For the past few weeks, he’d been picking her up for lunch a couple of days each week, taking her to the diner and quizzing her through lunch with the flash cards she had made from her class notes. It made him feel useful, like he was contributing to her life in a meaningful way. Proving himself a helpful asset, rather than just a distraction.

Which is what led to his current situation, hurdling a blanket on the quad that had two college students and their notes sprawled aimlessly across it.

“Dickhead! Watch it!” one of the girls shouted at his back as she grabbed the loose papers he’d sent flying.

“You’re sitting—on—a fucking—sidewalk—” He huffed over a shoulder, not bothering to slow down as he turned catty corner and crossed a smaller side street, narrowly avoiding getting mowed down in the bicycle lane in a very full-circle moment. He might have stopped to apologize if he hadn’t finally caught sight of Drie, still standing by their meeting spot and laughing with a familiar, yeti-sized man.

Fisher’s adrenaline-addled brain was blaring mental sirens that made it difficult to think as he finally slowed to a jog. He checked his watch once more as he approached Drie.Fifteenminutes late. He frowned as he sucked down oxygen, trying to calm his breathing before she noticed him.

He had been trying so hard to build a fresh cornerstone for their relationship, but Maverick being present really drove home the consequence of letting himself slip. Fisher had lost her once by his own mistake, and he’d be damned if he did it a second time.

He pulled to a full stop, eyeing Maverick even as he hunched over his knees, trying not to pass out.

“Fisher?Were you being chased?” Drie’s wide eyes scanned the vicinity before landing back on his face, alarmed. “Do you need to sit down?”

He waved a hand at her. “Long…run…m’fine.”

“You don’t look fine. Where’s your car?”

“Tire…strip.”

“The strip is like, three miles from here,” Drie said slowly.

The silence stretched between them until Maverick spoke up. “Wait—is he saying he just ran three miles at a sprint with…” He paused to lean forward, looking pointedly at Fisher’s feet as his brows rose. “Thoseshoes on?”

Fisher glanced down at the brown dress shoes he wore for his shifts at the library, and then squinted at Maverick as he stood back up, despite the resistance of his spasming diaphragm. “What the hell’s wrong with my shoes?”

“Not a thing. And it’s nice to see you too, Iceberg.” Maverick smirked at the pink darkening his cheeks and double-tapped Drie’s shoulder with his fist. “Now that your iceman’s here, I’m gonna head out. Y’all kids have fun.”

He stared at Maverick’s retreating back. “He’s the worst.”

She laughed. “He grows on you.” Her eyes tightened as he attempted and failed to inconspicuously recover his composure. “Can you tell me why you were running? You know my car is on campus. I could have just come and gotten you if you’d texted me.”

“My phone got crushed at work.” He held up the device, spiderwebs snaking all over the screen. “I can see incoming messages, but I can’t use the touchscreen at all. I would’ve borrowed a phone to call, but I didn’t have your number memorized.”