Chapter 38
Lochlan
Becket was leaning against the windowsill in Lochlan’s office, one hand dramatically pressed to his chest like he’d been sitting there, neglected, for hours instead of thirty minutes. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Of course.”
“What did I say?”
“No idea.”
“Dude.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Lochlan muttered, eyes still on the diary spread across his desk. Becket had been here for a while, but Lochlan had only half-registered the conversation. His focus had been wrapped up in restoring the final pages.
“I see your wife more than you.”
Lochlan glanced over, one brow raised. “Nia mentioned something about you and Ivy?”
Becket sighed and reached for the carved paperweight on the windowsill, turning it slowly in his hands. His thumb traced the edges with too much focus, like he was stalling. “Just friends.”
“That’s all you want, isn’t it? Just friends and a roll in the sheets. You’ve never wanted more before.”
“And you never thought you’d end up married. Never thought you’d confront your mother or sister.”
Lochlan’s expression sobered. He had told Becket everything about Dover. “Things change.”
The look Becket gave him in return could only be described as: no shit, asshole.
Lochlan leaned back. “You know, a few weeks ago, I was desperately trying to figure out how to keep Nia. Are you saying…”
“I’m not saying anything.” Becket nudged at the corner of the rug with his shoe. “My sister gave Ivy a reading. Told her to stop chasing relationships when she hasn’t learned to love herself.”
“Zora’s a powerful seer. She’s probably right.”
Becket threw his hands in the air. “Why did I even come here?”
“Beck,” Lochlan said gently, “I think you might also be looking for the wrong kind of love.”
Becket squinted at him. “I don’t feel comfortable taking advice from a man who’s keeping a massive secret from the wife who may or may not still want to annul their marriage.”
Lochlan didn’t argue. He turned back to the diary on his worktable and slid the final page into place.
Magic stirred through the paper like breath—soot and water damage faded beneath his fingers.
The fibers healed. The words became clear.
They now showed a near-perfect account of a life a daughter and man still mourned.
Once the next volume was delivered and repaired, the record Nia’s mother had made of her life would be complete.
Then, Lochlan would share these with Nia and tell her the truth—about the diaries, about her father, about everything.
“I know,” he said quietly. The threads of deceit he’d spun felt too tangled up with everything else he had with Nia. If he unwound them now, he was afraid everything else would unravel, too.
Becket stepped closer and gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, just as his phone buzzed. “Hey, Pixie, one sec.”
Lochlan arched a brow. Pixie was Becket’s nickname for Ivy, and he said it with a wide grin. The pout from moments ago vanished like it had never existed.
His poor friend. Lochlan knew the feeling too well.
And Becket wasn’t wrong. Lochlan had no room to judge, not with what he was still hiding.
He followed Becket out, locking the office behind him. By the time they reached the front door, a Videt courier was already climbing the steps.
Becket waved, phone still pressed to his ear as he rounded the corner, heading toward a tunnel entrance.
“Perfect timing,” Lochlan said, working to project a calm he did not feel as he signed the delivery slip. The worker handed over the package with a polite nod before retreating down the steps.
Resting on top of the package was a note, written in Wulfric’s precise hand.
You and Nia will join me for dinner tonight.
Lochlan turned to go back inside and close the door, but froze mid-motion. Nia pulled into the spot behind his truck, her sharp green eyes locking onto the delivery worker as she cut the engine. His pulse kicked up. Thankfully, they were already halfway down the block.
Nia swung off the bike in one fluid movement, pulling off her helmet as she walked toward him. Her vibrant hair spilled free, catching the light.
“Hey,” she said, her gaze flicking to the package in his hands.
Before he could respond, she leaned in, brushing her lips against his in a kiss that was far too brief for his liking. When she pulled back, her attention lingered on the package, a hint of curiosity creeping into her expression.
“What’s that?”
Lochlan forced a smile, gripping the package a little tighter. “Oh, just a book,” he said, keeping his tone casual. “A new volume for me to repair.”
Nia raised an eyebrow, skepticism flashing in her eyes, but she recovered quickly. “Okay.”
Lochlan shifted his weight, clearing his throat. “What are you doing home so early?”
Her lips quirked into a smirk, but there was something guarded in her expression. “Last-minute meeting came up,” she said, waving a hand vaguely toward the house. “I wanted to change before heading out again.”
“Oh,” he said. “Your father’s summoned us for dinner tonight.”
The words hung awkwardly between them. She studied him for a long moment, unreadable, before giving a small nod and stepping past him toward the front door.
Lochlan followed her, his grip on the package firm as they walked upstairs together.
He could feel her watching him out of the corner of her eye, her curiosity palpable and unnerving.
When they reached the top of the stairs, he hesitated for just a moment before unlocking the office door.
“I’ll just drop this off,” he said, his voice too quick, too forced. Lochlan didn’t need to look back to feel the weight of her gaze as the door clicked shut behind him, blocking her out.
Inside, he leaned against the door for a moment, exhaling a long breath. His shadows stirred restlessly at the edges of his vision, a mirror of the unease coiling in his chest.
He left the package unopened on his desk: the final piece.
When he walked into the bedroom, he stopped short.
Nia stood by the closet, changing into something more businesslike.
Her back was to him, her movements efficient as she pulled a blouse from a hanger.
She was in just her bra and slacks, the curves of her body catching the soft afternoon light streaming through the window.
Lochlan couldn’t help himself. He crossed the room, his hands finding her waist as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
Nia laughed, swatting at him playfully. “I have a meeting.”
“Who’s the victim?” he teased.
She rolled her eyes, turning back toward the closet. “I’m meeting with the owner of the manor we went to for Becket’s event,” she said, slipping the silky shirt over her arms. “I want to turn it into a place for young supernaturals.”
Lochlan raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
Nia continued as she buttoned her blouse. “We have spaces like this for humans—places for kids and families. But those with children whose magic is still a little wild can’t use them. It’s too risky. They might be seen and get in trouble.”
Lochlan frowned, confused. “I thought the Videt had this kind of place?”
She turned and gave him a pointed look. “That one is reserved for the families of people who work there. Those with money and means.”
Lochlan felt like a fool. He hadn’t known—hadn’t paid attention. The unease he’d felt earlier settled back over him. “You’re right,” he said after a moment. “That’s an amazing idea.”
Her expression softened. A small, pleased smile lifted her lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Nia slipped on her heels, then hesitated. “Would you want to go with me?”
Lochlan opened his mouth to respond, but his thoughts immediately went to the diary waiting in his office. The final piece. He was so close to finishing, to coming clean, to finally giving Nia everything.
Her face fell, just a fraction, but enough to make his chest tighten.
“I have that new project that got dropped off,” he said quickly, forcing the words out. “And I need to get started. It’s… important.”
Nia blinked, nodding too fast. “Oh, okay.”
She turned back to the mirror, her movements hurried as she straightened her blouse and grabbed her bag. The smile she gave him as she leaned in for a quick kiss didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Before he could think of anything else to say, anything that might make it better, she was gone.
As the sound of the door closing behind her echoed through the house, regret twisted in Lochlan’s chest. He hadn’t just been avoiding telling Nia the truth. He’d lied to her, hurt her, hidden what was her right to know.
He told himself he would make it right.
Just as soon as the last diary was done.