Chapter Thirty-Three
We arrived in the late morning, following a surprisingly restful night of sleep.
But as soon as I remembered what lay ahead of me, my stomach began to twist itself into knots.
If I’d had my way, I would have skipped over this day entirely.
Fortunately, Bri seemed calm and confident, and I did my best to follow her example.
We thanked Torion on the deck of the ship. He was sailing farther south, still on the hunt for more treasure. He reminded me of my father, in that way, though he was probably in his early thirties. An uncle, then. I’d never had one of those.
(Later, I would take to calling him Uncle Torion, and though he pretended to hate it, we both knew he liked the nickname. Just so long as I didn’t use it in front of his crew. Which I did, enthusiastically, at every opportunity.)
“I suppose we’ll see you again the next time you do a job for Mr. Wexley?” I said, shaking his hand.
He scrunched his nose. “Something tells me I won’t be working for that man again. I never liked him very much, anyhow. You both take care now.”
We waved goodbye and headed down the plank to the docks.
“Where to?” Bri asked, looking around the harbor. I wondered who she was looking for.
Right. Finlay. “I think we’d better go to the print shoppe,” I managed, though I was dreading our reunion. “Then we can head home and regroup.”
“Don’t worry,” Bri said, patting my hand. As if I had any choice in the matter.
We were nearly at the print shoppe when I heard a familiar nasal voice behind me. Oh, bloody hell.
“Look who’s back in town. It’s Willow Jokes and the outlander.”
I rolled my eyes in disgust and turned to see Trystan, his head covered in a light dusting of stubble, standing with his merry band of morons. “Is that really the best you can do?”
“The joke is on you, because my hair is growing back,” he said, jabbing his friends in the ribs.
He sounded like a petulant toddler, and instead of hating him, I realized then how much I pitied him.
He had everything he could ever want—loving parents; a safe, secure home; opportunity to be whomever he wanted—and instead of appreciating it, he picked on the people who threatened him the least. It must be sad, I realized, to be that much of a coward.
“Where have you been, anyway?” he asked when I didn’t respond.
“Yeah,” another boy added. “Trystan said you ran away because you were afraid of him.”
I couldn’t help laughing.
“We were in the Sapphire Isles,” Bri said. “Going to a ball, stealing a dragon egg, and escaping from Blackbay Prison.” She sniffed. “If you must know.”
Predictably, Trystan and his friends broke down in hysterical laughter, but Bri and I simply linked arms and left them cackling behind us. My only regret was that I wouldn’t be there to witness when he learned the truth.
As we approached the print shoppe, a mixture of relief and dread washed over me at the sight of Finlay through the window, whistling to himself as he worked.
He seemed his hale, hearty self, and I was grateful he hadn’t followed Bri and me onto the ship.
Aye, things had worked out, but only by the skin of my teeth.
The thought of Finlay’s mother all alone, with no one to take care of her, made me want to cry.
But if he’d come with us, then he would have learned everything in the same way Bri had, and perhaps that would have been easier. I didn’t know if I had it in me to confess twice.
As we stepped through the doorway, I waited for him to notice me, not wanting to disrupt him mid-typesetting.
Finally, he looked up, and his entire face seemed consumed by the biggest wonky-toothed smile I’d ever seen.
My stomach flopped like a fish out of water, the blood rushing to my cheeks in a furious blush.
“You’re back!” He hurried over to us, pulling me into a hug. We both exclaimed in surprise when Bri wrapped her arms around us.
“The blossom?” Finlay asked, leaning back to look at Bri. “Did you find it?”
Of course. He thought the curse was broken and that was why she was touching him for the first time. Why was she touching him?
“That’s kind of a long story,” she said, glancing at me. “Maybe you can come back to Willow’s with us? Hear the whole story over tea?”
“Of course. I’ll just let Ma know.”
All the warmth that had flooded my body drained out of me. Part of me had been hoping to put this conversation off for a day or two. Or forever.
“It will be okay,” Bri whispered.
I nodded, but we both knew I was unconvinced. As we left the shoppe, I was surprised to see Jack Turner pulling up a brand-new cart with Fergus hitched to the front, looking as content and round as could be.
“Where did this come from?” I asked Jack when he climbed down to join us.
He cocked his head, confused. “What do you mean?”
Bri leaned closer. “I forgot to mention, I gave Finlay all the proceeds from our sales so he could buy a new cart for Jack.”
At any other point in my life, I might have been furious at the revelation, but given the circumstances, it seemed more than fair. “Ah. I’m glad.” I smiled at Jack. “It’s lovely.”
“Lovelier than the original,” he agreed. “But Finlay insisted.”
“Insisted what?” Finlay walked toward us, patting Fergus’s rump and sending up a puff of dust.
“That I choose the best coach money could buy,” Jack explained.
Finlay toed a clod of dirt. “I did. I’m also hoping I can use this wonderful new coach to give the girls a ride home. They’ve had a long journey.”
Jack nodded. “Of course. Just—”
“Steer clear of any cliffs,” Finlay finished. “You have my word.”
Bri hoisted herself into the back of the wagon before I could offer her the bench. Our eyes locked, her head inclining toward Finlay, as if to say, Go sit with him, you ninny.
Oh, how I wanted to be close to him. And oh, how I wondered if this would be the last time he smiled at me and helped me into the cart like I was a proper lady and not a scheming, lying, thieving crook.
Finlay climbed up next to me, sitting far closer than seemed necessary. The brush of his hand against my shoulder almost made me swoon like an utter bampot. I scooched over, if only to spare myself the indignity of behaving like a blushing schoolgirl.
The road took a longer, more circuitous route, but it was still faster than walking across the moors.
I would have prayed for a broken axle—anything to delay telling Finlay the true reason for my journey—but it seemed unlikely given the sturdiness of the cart.
After we were away from nosy neighbors, Bri asked Finlay to fill us in on the town goings-on in our absence.
“It was business as usual,” Finlay said. “Although the Ardmuir police seemed to increase their presence this week. Apparently, word was spreading that they weren’t very good at their jobs. I asked them to keep an eye on the shoppe in your absence,” he added. “No problems there.”
That was a relief, at least. We would need to sell more of our inventory soon if we wanted to make rent in time.
“And your ma?” I asked. “How is she?”
Finlay seemed surprised by the question. “She’s doing better this week. Thank you for asking.”
For Pete’s sake, had I really never inquired about his mother’s health before? I made a vow to myself in that moment to always inquire about the people I cared for, to invite them over or visit them if they couldn’t travel. To never take their presence for granted again.
When the cottage came into sight, I smiled at the familiarity of its sagging thatched roof and sky-blue door, which had been hung with a pine wreath in my absence.
Finlay’s doing, no doubt. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine Da inside, making supper.
Maybe if I wished for it hard enough, it could be true.
But as we walked through the front door, it was Argyle who greeted me, rubbing against my legs with all the force his tiny body could muster before I scooped him up.
“I came by and checked on him every day,” Finlay said, scratching Argyle’s head. “I considered taking him home, but he seemed happy enough here.”
The truth was, I was too distracted by Finlay’s presence to hear his words. He smelled delicious, like apple pie and lavender soap, and I found myself wanting to kiss him so badly I had to step aside.
“My violin!” I heard Bri shriek from her bedroom. “How I’ve missed you!”
Finlay and I shared an amused glance. I placed Argyle on my shoulder and headed to the kitchen. “I’ll make tea.”
I’d only been gone for a week, but the house felt different now.
Smaller, perhaps. Or maybe it was simply that I’d changed.
I could barely hear Bri and Finlay talking in the sitting room over the sound of Argyle’s purring, and I took as much time as humanly possible to make the tea.
Maybe by the time I got to them, Bri would have told him everything and he’d be ready to forgive me.
Alas, I found quite the opposite when I arrived with the full tea tray, Argyle still perched on my shoulder. Finlay turned toward me with no trace of a smile.
My hands trembled as I set the tray down. “You told him,” I said to Bri.
“Yes, but I haven’t gotten to the part where you saved both of us,” she said through gritted teeth.
All I could see was Finlay. He rose, coming to stand before me. He was tall, but until now, I’d never felt like he was looking down on me.
I wished I could transfer my memory of everything I’d done in the last two weeks directly into his head, because there was no quick way to say it. “Finlay.”
“I…” He trailed off, looking at Bri.
“I know I messed up, but there’s still a way to get The Oxblood Book,” I said. “I can still fix all of this.”
Finlay swallowed, hard. “I should get home. My mother…” He moved past me, and I looked desperately at Bri.
“What happened?” I mouthed.
She shook her head and went after Finlay, who was already at the door.
“At least we’re alive!” I shouted, my fists clenched at my side, my voice wobbly with tears.