Almost Midnight (Shadow Falls: After Dark #3.5)(103)

“Have you ever met Brandon Hart, the guy opening the gallery?” Fredericka dropped down in the chair.

Holiday shook her head. “No. From what I heard, he just got into town about a month ago. Why?”

“It’s just…” She didn’t want to tell Holiday she found him fascinating, because Holiday knew she’d also found Cary fascinating. “Brandon’s scent was … human, but maybe not all human.”

Holiday appeared to be surprised, and sat back in her chair. “What did his pattern tell you?”

“He wore a baseball cap.” Fredericka almost told her about the cops showing up, but was afraid Holiday would have concerns about her working with him. And Fredericka’s gut said that Brandon wasn’t bad. There were all sorts of reasons the cops could have shown up.

She just couldn’t think of one right now.

“I agreed to help him do some things around the gallery tomorrow. Is there any way, if it’s not too much trouble, I could use the car again?” Fredericka hated asking for favors. But if things went well, maybe she could afford to buy her own car soon.

“Sure.” Holiday glanced down at her desk.

Fredericka saw what she was looking at, too. A manila envelope. The one Marissa had brought with her. And just like that the pain from yesterday bubbled up inside and crowded out what was left of her recent joy.

When Holiday looked up, Fredericka shook her head. “I don’t want it.”

“But…”

“There are no buts! He left me. I was ten years old. He left with the rogue pack—no explanation, no good-bye. I woke up one day and he wasn’t there. For weeks, I waited for him to come back.” Tears filled her eyes, but she swallowed to keep them at bay. “When he didn’t, I told myself he was dead. It was easier. So as far as I’m concerned he died a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly and Fredericka cringed at the pity she saw in the fae’s eyes. “But I’m sure you have questions. And the answers might be in here.”

“Maybe I don’t care about the answers. It’s not going to change anything.”

“Or maybe you’re just not ready. I’ll keep this right here.” She picked up the envelope and put it in a drawer, almost as if realizing the sight of it caused Fredericka pain. “When you’re ready, you come to me.”

Fredericka stood up. She doubted she would ever be ready. She’d already grieved for her dad once, she shouldn’t have to do it again. And yet she was, wasn’t she? At least part of her was.

Except when she was at the gallery, it had been … easy not to think about it. Brandon Hart and the mystery that surrounded him was just the diversion she needed. Ten o’clock tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

Until then she’d have to rely on her art to offer a small reprieve. Thankfully, she didn’t have any time to waste before diving headfirst into that bit of escape. She had three jewelry sets to make.

*

Fredericka, wanting to get a jumpstart on the three sets of jewelry, had started her sketch for her next design when her phone dinged with a text. She flinched thinking it would be from Cary again. What the hell was she going to say to him? Hadn’t she already said it? Wasn’t her parting comment about seeing him in class on Monday enough to let him know she was done thinking of him as anything but her teacher?

The text wasn’t from him. Instead it was from Kylie.

Holiday told me you got the place in the gallery. Super excited for you.

Fredericka smiled. And again she considered how she’d missed out on things by not having girlfriends. Someone to share secrets with. Someone who gave a damn. Maybe someday she’d be able to do that. To let others close.

You string beads? Cary’s words about her jewelry making filled her head. She knew it was partly just about being a guy, but when she considered all the other hurtful things he’d said, it seemed more like a jerk thing than a guy thing.

I think you’re worth more than that. Brandon’s words echoed behind Cary’s. Brandon was for sure all guy—an image of him cutting wood filled her head—yet he’d managed to say something nice—something that boosted her confidence instead of knocking it down a notch. The fact that he was an artist might have given him an edge, but … Footsteps echoed in the distance.

She moved to the window she always left cracked open for just this purpose. Those footsteps were familiar. Damn. Lifting her face up to catch any scents, she identified the intruder.

A few seconds later a knock came at the workshop door. Since when did Cary come looking for her?

“Come in.” She turned away and put the pen on her paper, pretending to be sketching.

He moved in beside her. But she kept her focus on the sketch and even shaded in one part.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” he said.

“No, I … I had my interview at the gallery.”

“What gallery?”

The one that wants to sell my strung beads. “I’m going to be showing and selling my work in a new gallery in Fallen. The owner wants me to have three more jewelry sets before we open. So if you don’t mind I really need to—”

“You don’t have time to hear me apologize?” he asked, sounding somber.

She looked at him for the first time. He looked apologetic. And he looked good—more like a guy she liked and less like a teacher. He wore jeans, and a light blue T-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders. His green eyes held a touch of remorse.