Chapter 12
Shanna stomped over to the dining table and leaned on it, fixing Gran with a determined stare. “So. JJ said he liked me, but when I asked him out today, he was like, ‘I was kidding, I’d never go out with you.’ What’s wrong with him?”
“Did you ask him in front of his friends?”
“Yes.”
“Those friends were other boys his age?”
“Yes.”
Gran sighed. “It’s not you, dear. It’s men. Whether they’re teenagers or grown-ups, they’ll always behave like absolute idiots around women they like.”
***
“Simon!” Shanna rushed to the gap in the fence, her heart dropping into her stomach. This was all her fault, wasn’t it? Why did her stupid accident curse keep going after Simon?
Please, tell me he’s holding on. At the fence, the cliff dropped straight into the foaming, gray-blue water. He had to be within a hundred feet of her—but he could be down there, injured, drowning—
With a fear that almost stopped her from looking, Shanna peeked over the fence.
On a narrow shelf about two feet below lay Simon, squirming as he held his foot.
“Simon.” This time, his name was a breath of relief.
“I think I sprained my ankle,” he squeezed out. “I don’t even know how it happened. I was walking and …”
“I know.” She couldn’t even be angry with him for glowering at her throughout the date. As long as he was alive and decently well, everything was fine.
Nick caught up with them. “What happened?”
“My friend fell and sprained his ankle.”
“How bad is it? Can you put your weight on it?” Nick asked.
Grunting, Simon reached for the remainder of the fence to haul himself up. Shanna would’ve helped if she weren’t convinced she’d only make it worse. Who knew where her curse stopped? How firm were these rocks?
“I’ll be okay.” Simon propped himself up, gingerly touched his foot down, and winced.
“Yeah, nah, mate,” Nick said. “You’d better put some ice on that and let it rest. Should I carry you back to the restaurant?”
“I’d rather throw myself into the blowhole.”
“Simon!”
“All good, all good.” Nick raised his hands in surrender. “Just trying to help.”
At the end, with some coaxing from Shanna, Simon did at least accept a lean on Nick’s shoulders as they walked back. Simon sat down at one of the dining tables, his leg propped up on another chair, as Nick went inside to get ice packs.
“What happened?” Chris came from the restaurant, finishing off a cone of ice cream.
“Simon sprained his ankle,” Shanna said.
“Neat. Was there blood?”
“I … no,” Simon said, frowning.
“How bad is it? Swelling? Pain? Feeling any joint instability? Bruising?”
While Chris played doctor and Simon answered to the best of his abilities, Nick returned with ice and some bandages to secure it to the ankle.
“You should keep that propped up and rest for at least twenty-four hours,” Chris said.
“There’s a hotel down the road, about twenty minutes,” Nick said. “You guys might want to stop for the day.”
“Thanks,” Shanna said. “Sorry for the abrupt ending to the date.” Still, she hoped it counted. Nick had turned out to be fun, but she’d rather be done with forced dating.
Especially when it made the guy on the other side of the leash behave like a stubborn toddler.
“No worries. It was nice meeting you!” Nick winked goodbye and left.
Simon spent the journey to the hotel in the backseat, silent. Shanna parked as close as she could to the lobby while she went to get their rooms.
“We have exactly two left,” the receptionist said. “Both double bed. Will that be okay?”
“There’s no room with two single beds?”
The receptionist looked at her screen again, shaking his head. “Sorry.”
“I get a double bed? Nice,” Chris said when Shanna came out and told them the news.
Simon didn’t react; Shanna wasn’t sure whether it was because he was too focused on keeping a brave face through the pain or because he didn’t care they’d have to sleep together in one bed.
He hobbled to their room, where he made himself comfortable on the bed.
Only the light rattling of a box of pain relief pills broke the silence as Simon gobbled them down with water.
Shanna unpacked their things and brought out her kit.
She picked up a small green-tinted bottle and a brush and walked over to Simon, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Show me your leg.”
He looked dubiously at the bottle.
“The ice packs and rest will help, but I’ll try to accelerate your healing. So we don’t lose too much time.”
“Right,” he said slowly. He rolled the pant leg up to his knee.
“Stay still.” She leaned down and began painting a few inches above his ankle, where the bandages wouldn’t disturb the markings.
“What is that? Smells like mint.”
“An herbal mix based on white willow bark,” she said.
“To help with the pain. Commonly used in healing spells.” She bit her lip as she focused, carefully drawing sigils on his skin.
“The Uruz rune for healing …” she murmured as she guided the brush into an upside-down V, “and the Witch’s knot, to safeguard from negative influences.
” She looked up, smiling. “To protect you from myself.”
“You don’t need to protect me from yourself,” he said, his voice gentle.
“My curse thinks otherwise.”
“It’s not your curse. I was an idiot today,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“And I’m sorry for yesterday. For yanking you into the water and … what followed.”
Simon’s gaze caught hers, somehow earnest and sad at the same time, and her lips went dry.
A light pop and the smell of smoke came from behind her.
“Fire.” Simon pointed behind her shoulder.
“Shoot, shoot, shoot!” It was nothing big—she didn’t even see flames, only smoke coming from the side of the desk—but she still discarded the bottle in panic and ran to the desk, throwing a blanket over the smoke.
“How did a desk catch on fire?” Simon asked.
“Welcome to the side effects of my spells.” She lifted the blanket; save for an inch of scorched wood, everything was fine. “On the bright side, it means the spell is working.”
“Well.” Simon chuckled. “At least it wasn’t my leg.”
She came to sit beside him. “I think it’s best we stay here tomorrow. You’ll be much more comfortable than in the car. Nick told me the place from the postcard might be Ross, a town a few hours south of here.”
“So we have our next stop.”
She nodded, and they sat in silence.
“Tell me about the night in Vegas,” he said.
She raised her eyes. “Why?”
He gave a half-committed shrug. “It made me marry you. I want to know.”
“It was the three cocktails that made you marry me.” But she told him, anyway; about how Jinx escaped her leash and he found him; about how she fell into the Golden Luck Fountain and got the dress from the other bride; and about how they got married by Elvis, real name Ricardo, who didn’t at all think it odd they didn’t know each other’s real names.
“Did we exchange rings?” He spread his fingers as if he expected one would pop up.
“No, but you bought me this from the gift shop.” She brought her locket out from under her shirt.
“God, that looks tacky,” he said, then put a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, I—”
“No, no, I know it’s horrendous,” she said. “Like I mentioned. Three cocktails.”
He laughed. “And you still have it. After all this time.”
“Well, your soul was in it for three years. And at that point, I got used to it.” Still, it wasn’t just that.
She consciously put it down into a little velvet-lined box for a safe rest every evening, and consciously picked it back up every morning.
A part of it was a habit; but the other part was nostalgia, a memory of that night.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “For not giving up on me.”
She’d never give up on bringing him back.
But it was sad she had to give up on the rest.
“Tell me about Aries,” she said to distract herself from the melancholy thought.
“Hmm?”
“You didn’t get to tell me anything about it that night.” She picked up the bottle and twirled it between her fingers. “You said you started it in college. That must’ve been quite a feat—studying and opening a company at the same time.”
“I had help. And with Mom and Dad dying at the same time, Aries was a distraction and a lifeline. I could pour myself into it, and if it succeeded, I’d not only have something to …
” He fiddled with the edge of the sheet.
“To hold me above the surface. I’d also have something they would be proud of. ”
“I’m sure they are,” she said. As for Simon, there was no doubt he was. The company was his child.
“Besides, if you truly want something, it’s never too hard.” He shrugged lightly, but his eyes gained that familiar gleam of excitement.
“You truly wanted phones?” she teased him.
“I wanted to make something fun, good, something that would enhance people’s lives. I know it’s not the cure for cancer or a solution to world hunger, but …”
“You like what you do, and you want to share that with others.”
His eyes met hers and held her in place with a soft, silent understanding. “Exactly.”
She chuckled, more to cut off the invisible string between them. “I’m sorry I keep trying to sabotage your babies.”
“It’s not that bad. If anything, you’re a challenge. I could try to figure out how to make a phone even you can’t break.”
Her heart picked up. The way he said it, with a light smirk and that soft gleam still caught in his eyes, it had almost sounded like flirting.
If they weren’t well on their way to breaking the bond and with it, what few strands of that night in Vegas still remained. Simon was only getting soft because he was stuck with her, stuck in bed on top of everything else, and doused with painkillers.