Page 47 of Bound and Tide

“All right, holy man,” Xander huffed, slouching down because while he would grant this favor, he wasn’t going to be happy about it, “maybe you’re onto something with this prophecy nonsense.”

Chapter 21

PROMISES KEPT

When Evangeline woke, Xander was gone, and she wanted to be relieved.

She was not relieved.

So then she wanted to be angry, but she also wasn’t angry. Nor was she embarrassed, bitter, not even resentful. Evangeline was simply sad, and of all the sentiments, that one cut the deepest.

Xander was special, she could see that now—had always seen it, really, but had chosen to ignore it until he made it impossible. He needed exactly what she had to give, she learned that the moment she’d carved into his skin like he was made of stone.

Evangeline often wished people were a lot more like stone, solid and unflappable, and then maybe someday she would find the right one to prop against the door of her shop and let the breeze in. But it would never be fair to tether someone to Bendcrest like she’d tethered herself, so perhaps it was better that people were more like dried herbs, a gift to the senses but easily blown away on that same pleasant breeze.

Evangeline dragged herself from bed, dressed for a day of work, and gathered their supper bowls to bring to the basin downstairs. Perhaps her prodding questions had been too much, and then her unhurried tenderness had been too little. It was difficult to get things right when they were of so much consequence, especially when she’d not even realized how much they mattered.

A dull ache still thrummed through her body, one she would have enjoyed after a tumble with a traveler that sneaked out in the night. But every other morning when she washed her face and pinned up her curls and brewed only enough of her strongest tea for one, she never felt that ache in her chest. Not like this, sloshing about and spilling over and threatening to drown her completely.

Dil’wator’wovl damn him and his stupidly handsome face and his skilled hands and that wonderful tongue and the funny face he makes when he has to touch something slimy and…oh…no, Dil’wator’wovl, don’t damn him at all…

It was only that she hadn’t expected Xander to cling onto her in the night the way that he did. He probably didn’t expect it either—maybe he didn’t even know—but whenever she shifted, his arms always found her middle, and his cheek always nuzzled into her neck, and he always curled himself right up against her body. She also hadn’t expected just how much she enjoyed cradling him back, anchoring him to her, feeling his breath on her throat as she ran fingers through his hair.

In her mind, she boiled a batch of skullcap buds, dragon’s borage, and kippeacress with a heaping spoonful of early spring honey—Heartbreak Healer, she would call it, and it would be popular—but even if she could get her hands on the ingredients, the resulting tincture wouldn’t truly soothe the ache in her chest.

After unlocking the apothecary’s front door, Evangeline lay out a few tools and ingredients, preparing to brew more of her deep winter throat soother. It was fine if Xander didn’t want to stick around and let her take care of him, she supposed, when she had so many others to take care of anyway. By the time the elixir was complete, she’d managed to dam up the ache in her chest and focus instead on filling up little vials with her concoction—little vials that didn’t remind her of Xander at all.

The bell of her shop’s door rang just as she began writing out labels. “Good morning,” she chirped in her warmest voice because forcing out cheeriness made for better sales than wallowing in melancholy. “I’ll be at your service in just a moment.”

“Oh, Red, how quickly our tides have turned.”

She caught the well of ink before it careened to the floor in her jolt at his voice, shoring up the dam in her chest as that untempered river hammered to be free.

Xander stood in the shop’s middle, grinning from one side of his mouth as if he’d never gone, holding up a parchment-wrapped parcel. “I fetched breakfast.”

Evangeline made her way around the counter with slow and calculated steps, the distance between them closing, her eyes locked onto his.

“I could not for the life of me find honey-covered tea cakes anywhere in this gods-forsaken place, and I will admit, these fruity pastries are a bit of a bribe, but please don’t let either of those facts keep you from enjoying them, especially if you feel the urge to make some of those noises you made last night. Now, I intend to be entirely honest with you, as I will once again be disappearing for a bit and this time my return is much less imminent, but first I need to borrow a few things, and—”

Evangeline grabbed his face and thrust her mouth against his as the dam in her chest burst. There—there was the relief she’d longed for when she woke, not relief at his departure, but relief that he was still there, with her, and that he was safe. He was startled, but then he leaned into the kiss with a whimper so soft she wasn’t entirely sure which one of them uttered it.

“Perhaps wait to reward me until you taste the black currant pastries,” he murmured when she pulled back to breathe. “The baker said it was his best seller, but I expect them to be far too tart.”

Evangeline shook her head, chuckling at herself and slipping back behind the counter before he could see how flustered she was—not that she’d done well to hide it, but he was gracious enough for once to not say.

They ate together as she pretended like she’d never felt any sort of pang at his departure. A few customers trailed in, Madam Orr amongst them, and Xander wandered over to the window to give her space to sell. He found his way back once the patrons were gone and asked after the herbs she’d used to attack the imps. She gave him a sachet of the mixture, pretending still that she didn’t care what he was going to do with it or asking where the little creatures were. When he inquired about other, more dangerous potions, she continued to pretend that she was apathetic to his plans, as if she had completely forgotten he’d said he would be disappearing for a bit yet again.

Xander took a break from chattering to enjoy the tea she’d made, and she watched him, leaning on the counter with her chin in her hand. There was a giddiness in her stomach, nerves she’d not experienced since she was much younger, and she tried to not think about how they were affected by his current requests.

“What?” he asked, dark, sparkling eyes narrowing.

“I like looking at you,” she admitted because why not? “You’re handsome.”

“I—I know,” he coughed, gaze darting downward.

“Good. You should know because it’s true.” She grinned wide, ripping a piece off of her pastry and popping it into his mouth. “And someone should say, shouldn’t they?”

That same ruddiness she’d inspired the night before leapt into his face again, deep skin going even deeper as he chewed. Gods, he was different than the man who, less than a moon ago, had sauntered into her shop, smug and irritating and insatiable. Well, he was still all those things, but he was so much more now, wasn’t he?

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