to take the mug. “Enid, what are you doing out here? Where’s your stick?”
“Oh, bugger my stick. I can walk up the drive and pop next door without it, thank you very much.” She glared grey-sky eyes at him and tutted, but when he offered his arm, she clung to it quite happily.
“You’re supposed to use it all the time,” he told her sternly. “Where’s your grandson?”
“Never mind him.” Enid flapped a hand as though the man she lived with was a mild irritation. “That’s for you, my darling.” She nodded at the tea.
Zach grinned despite himself. “Aw, Enid. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Well, Lord knows Her Majesty won’t bother,” Enid snorted, rolling her eyes toward Callie’s house. “She’s sitting inside, wrapped up warm, while you sort her car out for free, isn’t she?”
Zach took a sip of hot, milky tea before answering. “No use her standing out here and getting cold.”
“No use is right,” Enid muttered. “But it’s lovely to see you, my darling. You haven’t been round this side of town in months and months, now.”
“Been busy. My mum…”
“I know, sweetheart.” Enid patted his hand. “I suppose you weren’t in the mood for any of Callie’s lovely barbecues last summer?”
No, Zach hadn’t been. Although, his mood might have improved if anyone had thought to invite him to those barbecues. Or tell him he’d been missed. Or ask if he was okay.
Or remember he existed at all.
“Thing is,” he hedged, “I haven’t seen Callie for a long time.” Since his mum’s diagnosis, actually. He hadn’t seen a lot of people since then.
Enid’s lip curled. “Fair-weather friends.” She must have seen something in his expression—the dawning realisation, or the disappointment that followed—because she flashed him a too-bright smile. “But I’d better be going inside. I’ll never hear the end of it if I catch a chill.”
“Oh, yeah, of course. Let’s get you in.” Zach helped Enid down her drive, promising to leave the mug inside the kitchen windowsill when he was done. Then he returned to Callie’s car and stared at the engine while his thoughts lurched around drunkenly.
Was Callie a fair-weather friend? Was she one of those people who’d been happy to hang out with the eternally cheerful Zach, but couldn’t be bothered with the stressed and depressed version he’d become after his mother’s illness?
Had Callie come by the forge that day purely because she wanted something, and Ma was better now?
Not so long ago, the idea would have panicked him. Would’ve made him feel like the bullied, friendless kid no-one truly wanted around—or the boy people only bothered with because of the way he looked and the things he could provide. But for some reason, today, that feeling didn’t come.
Maybe because, these days, he had people in his life who knew he was worth more than that. People who gave him everything he’d barely dared to hope for and made him feel like he deserved it.
Zach grabbed his wrench and got back to work, a weight lifting from his shoulders.
This would be the last favour he’d do Callista Michaelson.
Chapter 6
Two Weeks Later
The hotel that hosted the Burning Quill Convention was incongruously business-y and boring. Everything—from the wide, minimalist front desk to the uncomfortable-looking chairs scattered about the foyer—was dark wood or dull, duck-egg blue. And Rae usually liked blue. Didn’t matter. This place was awful. She’d already texted Hannah a million times, ostensibly to check on Duke, but her fingers itched to pick up the phone again.
Zach’s massive shoulder nudged hers. She looked up and saw their reflections in the vast mirror above the check-in desk. Watched him bend toward her and felt his breath against her ear. “Stop freaking out,” he murmured.
She gritted her teeth. “I’m not.”
“You’re glaring at thin air like you’re ready to commit a murder. That little French girl behind the desk started stammering when we joined the queue. You have homicidal energy.”
A smile snuck onto her face. “You’re so dramatic.”
“You’re so nervous. Don’t be. We’re going to have fun.”
She looked at him, the real him, rather than his reflection. His words were light, but he had the determined expression of a man on a mission. They would have fun because he would make it so. Zach really was the best candidate for this sort of thing—and, with those sleepy, blue eyes and that welcoming mouth, the worst.
On the drive up, it had hit Rae like a brick to the face that she and Zach would share a room for three whole nights.