Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LIORA
I’d all but drifted through my shift on Saturday, my brain whirling with thoughts about being a chartweaver, and by the time Torin had arrived to drive me home, I was exhausted.
He hadn’t questioned me when I’d begged off having a nightcap with him, insisting I was tired, and I’d fallen into bed and slept straight through the night in a blissful dreamless sleep.
Apparently, that was exactly what I’d needed, because when I woke up Sunday morning, the fog had cleared.
The threads, the glowing web, the truth spell—they were still there in the back of my mind, sure, but they weren’t pressing down on me like a weight. More like a new, slightly daunting tab open in my brain browser that I could click into later.
But one thought rose to the top.
I’d given a reading, and it had gone really, really well.
In a way that it never had before. And I could be proud of myself for it.
Even if I’d accidentally meddled with fate a bit, or more than a bit.
I still wasn’t quite sure on all that. But before I could let guilt swamp me for inadvertently touching the threads of someone else’s fate, I shook it off.
Right now, I had one more lunch shift to get through and then I could get to the relaxation portion of my weekend.
I padded into the kitchen to find Torin already there, hair damp from a shower, wearing a dark T-shirt and jeans.
“Morning,” I said, voice croaky.
He glanced up, and that slow, warm smile lit his face. “Morning, wood nymph.”
Heat shot to my cheeks. “We’re not keeping that nickname.”
“Aye, we are.” He looked at my face and then grabbed a mug and poured a cup of coffee from the pot. “You sleep all right?”
“Like the dead.” I took a blessed sip. “Eight beautiful hours of unconsciousness. Highly recommend.”
He studied me, eyes warm. “You look good. Rested. Not as stressed as when you first arrived.”
“I guess that’s progress,” I said dryly.
“It is.”
I leaned back against the counter, making myself focus. “Right, so. Today I’ve just got the lunch shift at The Tipsy Thistle. I’ll be done and back by three or so.”
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “I’ll pick you up, then.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s all right. It’s broad daylight. Please. You can’t follow me around all over Loren Brae. What about when you’re at work and I go out? This isn’t sustainable, Torin.”
His brows lowered. “Liora.”
I held up a hand. “I know, I know. Kelpies. Danger. Blah, blah, blah. But I’ll be driving on main roads in the middle of the day, not taking a scenic midnight detour along the loch. I promise I won’t go monster hunting on my break.”
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “You’re sure?”
I softened, pushing off the counter and stepping into his space. “I’m sure. I appreciate your concern, truly. But I’ll be back mid-afternoon, and I need you not to hover. Go… I don’t know. Chop some wood. Talk to the trees. Whatever it is you do when I’m not here.”
His eyes darkened, flicking to my mouth, then back up. “You’re cheeky this morning.”
“Rested,” I corrected. “And I promise to text you when I get there and when I leave, all right? That way you can track my movements like a paranoid boyfriend and everything.”
He huffed out a laugh. “I’m not paranoid.” I noted he didn’t say anything about the boyfriend idea though.
“You absolutely are,” I said, but gently, because I couldn’t be annoyed at him for caring.
I finished my coffee, grabbed my bag, and tried not to think about how much I already liked that he worried about me. That was weird, right? I shouldn’t like that so much. It felt like the lines were blurring between us already.
The Tipsy Thistle was buzzing for a Sunday. Locals in for roast lunches, a couple of tourists, and the usual mix of regulars at the bar discussing football like the fate of the world hinged on it.
But for the first time since I’d started there, everything felt … easy.
I breezed through my tables, scribbling orders, topping up drinks, smiling and chatting.
My brain, instead of spinning in eight different anxious directions, hummed along.
Maybe being a chartweaver had cracked something open in me, but whatever it was, I felt more …
anchored, like I’d found a groove that actually fit.
During a lull, I ducked behind the bar to check my phone. A new message pinged through from Sophie.
Hi friend! Girls’ dinner at the castle tonight – just the Order. 7p.m. You free?
My heart did a delighted little flip. Friends. I had dinner plans with actual new friends at an actual castle.
Omg yes. Wouldn’t miss it. What should I bring?
Her reply came back almost instantly.
Just yourself and your appetite.
I grinned at my phone.
“Someone’s happy,” Graham observed, sliding past me with a tray of empty pint glasses.
“Girls’ night,” I said. “Apparently I’m going to the castle for dinner.”
He arched a brow. “Is Agnes going?”
“Why do you care?” I asked and he glowered at me.
“I just haven’t seen her all weekend. Usually she stops in.”
“Maybe she’s been busy,” I said, shrugging, and went to take a Coke to a table.
I was clearing plates from a table of four when a familiar golden blur trotted in through the front door, followed by the click of sensible boots and the soft tap of a cane.
Mitch.
Zara followed behind him, her dark hair pulled back, the same self-possessed energy she’d had since we were teenagers. Mitch led her confidently through the crowd, tail wagging like a metronome.
I dumped the plates on a nearby tray station. “Hi, Z!”
Her head snapped up, her face lighting in my direction. “L?”
“Right here,” I said, reaching her and gently catching her forearms. “Hi.”
She broke into a huge grin and leaned forward, bumping her forehead against mine in an awkward hug. “There’s my dram of chaos.”
Warmth flooded my chest. “I’m sorry I haven’t seen you much this week.”
“It’s okay, I know you’ve been settling in.” Mitch sat at her feet, grinning up at me with his harness on.
“Here, come sit.” I helped Z to a table and Mitch lay down next to her. “I’ll bring him some water shortly. Do you want a roast lunch, or something light, like a Caesar salad or chicken soup?”
“Soup and salad suits me just fine.” Zara bent and took Mitch’s harness off, and he bounced up to give me a kiss.
“Hey, handsome. You keeping my sister out of trouble?”
He licked my cheek in answer and I gave him a quick cuddle before Zara re-harnessed him and he settled at her feet.
“So, Liora, what’s going on? I can’t believe I haven’t heard from you. Is it awful living with Torin? I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize who the landlord was. Tell me, quick, is it bad?”
My stomach did a guilty flip. I really should have filled Zara in on everything that was going on. “Life is … good,” I hedged. “But it’s not actually bad at the house. Torin is a good landlord. And now that I’ve got the job here, I’m quite busy. I’ll give you the full download later, I promise.”
Guilt pricked sharp and hot under my ribs. I hadn’t told her about the chartweaver thing. I hadn’t really told her about Torin and me, beyond a few short texts promising her that everything was fine.
I made a mental note to tell Zara everything. Soon. She deserved to know what was going on. I’d never hidden anything like this from her before.
“Good,” Zara said. “Because if you dash off to your magickal castle friends and forget all about me, I’ll tell Mum.”
I laughed. “I would never risk Mum’s wrath.”
“She can be terrifying,” Zara agreed.
She wasn’t really. She hadn’t exactly abandoned us when she left for London, but she had certainly made a new life for herself.
She was … happy. Just not particularly maternal.
We heard from her every few months during her check-ins but that was about it.
I wondered if she might come for Christmas now that I was in Loren Brae.
“I have to get back to work,” I said reluctantly. “But I’ll swing by to chat when I can.”
“No problem, I’m just happy to not be making food for myself today.” Zara settled back, comfortable with spending time in her own company, and I dove back into work.
The rest of the shift flew by in a whirl of orders and plates and the warm comfort of knowing my sister was nearby.
Between tables, I’d catch glimpses of her laughing with Graham, Mitch sprawled under the table like he owned the place.
Stopping by to give her a quick hug before she left, I once again promised her I’d stop by that week for a proper hang out.
She left, happy enough, but guilt still tugged low in my gut.
By the time two o’clock rolled around and my shift was ending, I was pleasantly tired and buzzing with the pride of a solid weekend worked.
I said my goodbyes, collected my tips, and slid into my wee car, sending Torin a quick text.
Leaving the pub now. No Kelpies spotted. Yet.
His reply came less than a minute later.
Good. Come home.
Ridiculous how two words on a screen could make my stomach do somersaults. Home. With Torin.
The buildings of Loren Brae were bathed in late-afternoon light, the leaves gilded, the loch beyond glinting like someone had spilled a box of glitter across the surface of the water.
Turning the music up, just so I could ignore a Kelpie’s scream if one happened to burst out of the gilded water, I sang at the top of my lungs all the way home until I turned the car into the drive and promptly forgot how to breathe.
I parked the car quickly and turned the engine off, cracking open the door, because I dearly needed the icy air to bring me back to life.
Torin was in the clearing by the side of the house, splitting logs.
Shirtless.