A chill skipped down her bare arms and she chafed them again. She could have used telekinesis to warm the air currents around her, but that would take concentration she didn’t have. Plus, she kind of wanted to feel the cold. Cold meant reality.
Which meant Bastian really had told Clarissa off like an impudent child.
Glee burst into being like a ray of sunshine, followed by a claw of tension that threatened to rip the satisfaction away. Would she be paying for that in the next few weeks before the wedding? After?
Bastian finally stopped by a bench, sank onto it. He sprawled in the seat, long legs outstretched, spine a curve against the wrought iron back. He let out one long sigh.
“I should probably apologize, right?”
She looked down at him. “Apologize?”
“For snapping at your mother.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and his expression turned from rueful into a grimace. “But, Goddess, Emma, the woman’s a pill.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
He huffed a laugh, then shoved his sweater sleeve up and showed her his wrist. “Earned me a new tattoo, though.”
In stylized font, loyalty was now branded into the skin.
Just looking at it made her giddy. Like she’d suddenly launched into the air and her stomach hadn’t yet registered it had left the ground.
At her silence, he covered the tattoo. “I guess I lost my temper.”
“I guess you did.” He never used to have one, but she’d seen the hints of it lately, and where there was smoke... “It’s okay.”
“It’s not. Push enough buttons and it’s a jack-in-the-box. A bad new habit.”
“Maybe.” She hugged the memory of her brother’s coughing fit. “Thank you, though.”
“No thanks needed. I enjoyed it. I kept waiting for you to jump in.”
Something hard stabbed her in the throat. “I, ah, can’t talk back to my mother.”
Shadows crept into his eyes. “She’s always been tough.”
“Stalin took his inspiration from her.”
Warmth banished the shadows and he patted the seat. She sat next to him, settling her hands into her lap.
He gazed at her. “I didn’t realize how bad it still was. Your brothers don’t help?”
“Kole will if I don’t interrupt.” She lifted a shoulder. “It’s fine.”
“No. It’s not. But I’m understanding the move to Chicago and why you bought the bar even more now.” He nudged her knee with his. “You did it to piss her off.”
Emma didn’t confirm or deny, but she did allow herself one satisfied smile.
He settled back and threw an arm along the back of the bench. “Think she’ll give a toast at our wedding?”
“It would be an ode to herself.”
“We’ll have to mute her then. Tia’s handy with hex bags, right?”
She wasn’t sure if he was serious. But he did need to know: “You’ve made an enemy.”
He sobered and there, there was the flash of something dark. “Bring it.”
“She’s not a good enemy to have.”