Other Side 14: Flawed Communication

The Other Side of the Door

 Chapter 14: Flawed Communication

Today
Sunnydale

Joyce squealed delightedly at the phone she held, and leaned over to hug the woman beside her again. “I’m so happy for you!” She looked up at the man in the armchair across the coffee table from them. “Both of you!” She withdrew her arm to scroll through some more of the images. “And who is this little demon child?”

Buffy leaned over to see what her mother was seeing. “That’s Kreena. She just turned four.” She frowned at Spike. “How did I not notice you taking snaps at her birthday party?”

“’Cause you and her dad were busy trying to fit fifty bloody sparklers on one cake.” Spike rolled his eyes. “Tray’s bad enough on his own, love. You don’t need to encourage him.”

“It was only forty.” Buffy stuck her tongue out at him and turned her attention back to the phone her mom held. “The woman behind Kreena is Neela, her mom. You’d like her. She’s kind and loving, but tough enough to easily hold her own against Tray’s paternal family. Tray’s mom -also called Kreena- is sweet. His late brother was cool. But his father’s family…” She gave an exaggerated shudder.

Joyce frowned. “What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re a bunch of snobs and xenophobes,” Spike stated simply. “And just polite and rich enough to get away with it.”

“Except Great Aunt Vellga,” Buffy corrected.

“True. She’s not polite enough for any amount of money.”

Her chuckle in response expanded to a full blown laugh at the next photo her mother scrolled to, that of herself and Traygo grinning as they delivered a cake that was so loaded with tiny sparkler candles, it was in danger of catching fire. “And that is pretty much the epitome of what happens when I’m with Tray.”

“What? That something inevitably goes ‘boom?’” Spike grumbled. “Usually with one or both of you too close to it for comfort?”

“I’m not sure I understand this relationship,” Joyce said cautiously, looking from one to the other.

“Little Kreena is our niece,” Buffy explained. “Tray and I have been super close since the war. Close enough that he calls me sister.”

“So his relatives…?”

“Are mine. And since Spike insisted on finding a way for us to go through the temple, his.”

“The only part I regret is Vellga,” he grumbled.

Joyce scrolled slowly through more of the photos, carefully absorbing the little glimpses into her daughter’s life she could glean from them. “I keep seeing these other demon men,” she murmured. “Especially this big one.” She looked up at Spike. “A friend of yours?”

“Persh?” Spike asked Buffy, as she was close enough to see the photos. At her confirming nod he answered Joyce. “Best I’ve ever had. My boss, besides.”

“Which isn’t at all weird or problematic,” Buffy murmured.

“Says the woman who was Pete Samuels’ pet for the last eight years of his career.”

She stuck her tongue out at him again. “Pete never took me home to meet his mother.”

*~*~*

Seven years, eleven months ago
North Dorwie Airstrip

Six months after being hired by Dorwie Security, Spike stepped off a commuter flight and slung his bag over his shoulder, taking his first look at the company’s hometown as he followed the other passengers toward a new-looking and well-lit parking garage, hoping that’s where he’d find someone waiting for him.

He had almost reached the structure when a large figure stepped out of the shadows near the entrance. “It’s about time you showed up.”

“Didn’t you get my message? Had to catch a later flight. Buffy got me a bit …distracted.”

Persheth laughed at his new friend’s shameless grin. “I’d say some parting relations justify missing a flight once in a while.” He waved around, indicating the compact, but modern airstrip. “So how do you like the pride of the rich side of town?”

Spike nodded appreciatively as they turned to walk toward the road that led to the ferry dock. “I take it Dorwie proper hasn’t anything so posh?”

“Posh?” Persheth shook off the question. “Never mind. I’ll learn your version of English eventually. But stay to more common words with my parents, would you? Neither of them learned English until they were adults, and they still struggle with some of the nuances.”

“I’ll be meeting your folks?”

“I promised to bring my house guest over for supper tomorrow, if it’s alright with you.”

“You warn them your house guest is a bit paler and smaller than you lot, and won’t eat much, besides?”

“I did, but my father was more upset that I’d hired someone who’d never served, to tell you the truth. Retired Vice Admiral Pershin of Dorwie takes military service very seriously. If you hadn’t been unofficially attached to that Frandrey unit in the war, he’d have shouted me out of his house for bringing you onto my team, and my mother would be smuggling her roast hurla over to my place every weekend. She’s the kind who always thinks her kids need her to feed them, no matter how old they get. You know the type. Speaking of, what are you going to do for eats? We don’t have much in the way of human donors here.”

“I put in a call to Port Harlan Med Center, to request they set aside a bit for me. I’ll have to take a few trips down the river.”

“Have you seen Harlan yet?”

Spike shook his head. “Just heard the stories.”

“Some parts of it were never rebuilt, and what was, wasn’t built well. The city’s a shadow of its former self. I’ll show you some photos before your first trip downriver, so you can see the difference.”

The conversation quieted for a few steps, as Spike was lost in thought.

“Thinking about Buffy making you miss your flight?” Persheth asked with a sly smile.

“Wondering how I’ll get along out here, especially with your dad. Not exactly the upright citizen type.”

“Don’t worry about Persh the Elder. Hurla’bo grosha that he is, he’s a fair man. Besides, you only have what? Two weeks of exile before she lets you back into the apartment?”

“Yeah. Seems to think she needs me gone to get any studying done, and exams for the first term cadets are coming up next week.”

“I’m guessing she’s right.” Persheth laughed at the look he got in reply. “You can’t argue with that after I had to wait three extra hours for you to get here.”

Spike’s mild glare turned into a chuckle. “Fair to say. I just hope she’s too busy with her books to spend much time with that pizza chef she’s in love with.”

He looked horrified. “What?!”

“Just a joke, mate. Mostly.” The chuckle faded with a shake of his head. “Come visit us in Vereen City after her exams, Persh. She’ll introduce you to Sixth Street Pizza, and her one true love they keep in the kitchen, I guarantee it. Plan to buy, if you want to make a good impression on her. The fastest way to a slayer’s heart is through her stomach. The second fastest is to fight with her.”

Persh laughed. “You know, I think I’m going to like your Buffy.”

“So does Jerome.”

*~*~*

Seven years, ten months ago
Sixth Street Pizza, Vereen City

“Next order up! One large hurla and peppers. One medium chicken, jalapeno, and … pineapple? Why would someone want dessert fruit on a savory pie?” The new sous chef shook his head. “My mother was right. I should never have moved to the city. These people are strange.”

The chef laughed as he brushed by him on his way out of the kitchen. “Tell your mother it’s a special case. She’s an off-worlder. I’ll be back in two minutes. Start the team on the next order. I’ll make this one personally.”

“Who’s an off-worlder?”

“Sweet and spicy chicken,” the chef answered over his shoulder. “There’s only one person in this entire city who orders that pie.”

As soon as the kitchen door swung open, Buffy jumped to her feet and rushed across the dining room to greet him. “Jerome! Guess who passed all her first term exams?”

He yanked his apron to the side of his large belly to limit the flour transfer to her when they hugged. “Congratulations, my girl! Halfway there!”

“If you love me, you’ll get me your best work tonight, to celebrate.” She gestured over her shoulder to her table as the hug broke. “And maybe show off your skills to our friend on the other pizza?”

“Can do.” Jerome looked over to the table she’d indicated, and gave Spike a wave while frowning at the stranger seated with him. “Who is the big fellow, anyway? We don’t get a lot of Rasheeni in here.”

“Spike’s boss. He’s a lot nicer than he looks.” She took his hand. “Come over and meet him.”

He let himself be led across the dining room. “Just for a moment. I’ve got pies to get in the oven, starting with yours.”

“In that case, I promise I won’t keep you.” She squeezed his hand reassuringly as the stranger rose to his full intimidating height, standing up to greet them. “Jerome, this is Persheth. Persh, this walking masterpiece is the man of my dreams.”

Spike shook his head. “You see what I have to put up with?” he asked Persh.

Jerome chuckled and straightened his apron. “I’ve always had a way with the ladies. Can’t help it.”

“Yeah, well, I cook for her, too. But you get all the fawning.”

Buffy grinned at the man beside her. “He’s cute when he’s jealous, isn’t he?” she stage whispered.

Persh frowned at Spike, uncertain how seriously to take his irritated expression. “’Cute’ may not be the right word.”

“Oh, it definitely is.” Buffy stretched to give Jerome a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for coming out. I really wanted to share the news with you.”

“It was worth sharing.” he returned the kiss, dropping it on her forehead. “I told you you were smart enough to pull it off, didn’t I?” He turned to address the table. “Fellows, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a certain cadet here who’s earned some extra cheese on her pizza.”

“Thank you, gorgeous!” Buffy called after him when he broke her grip on him to turn back toward the kitchen.

“Anything for my girl!” he called back.

Persheth resumed his seat when Buffy settled back into hers. “I thought it was a joke.”

“It is,” Spike assured him. “Someone just likes to make a big show of it.”

Buffy feigned confusion. “What show? I’m just keeping my options open.”

“You’ll pay for this later, Slayer,” Spike threatened in a near growl. 

She countered with a wide grin. “I’m counting on it. …Persh, how would you feel about taking a walk to the park at the end of the plaza after we eat?”

“Is there something special about it? Most plaza parks look more or less like most others.”

“This one is going to be the scene of a sparring match.” She glanced at Spike’s sour expression. “Probably a really good one.”

*~*~*

Today
Sunnydale

Buffy was helping her mother navigate back to the photos of Aaron on Spike’s phone when a reminder alert popped onto the screen. 

Confirm flight details with Dr. Fields.

She cleared the message out of her mother’s way and turned to her katyan. “Who’s Dr. Fields?”

“She’s the lead scientist for the Sa’yane expedition. Why?”

“Your phone just reminded you to confirm your flight with her.”

Joyce shifted uncomfortably in the tense silence that followed, not understanding the looks being traded between slayer and vampire.

Spike tried to wave it all away. “You knew I was going.”

“No, I knew you were considering it. ‘Confirm flight details’ reads an awful lot like ‘This decision has been made for a while.’ So were you going to tell me while you were packing your bags, or wait until you got off the plane?”

“It’s not like I usually have much notice to give you before a job.”

“Your jobs usually don’t last six months and conveniently get you out of town when–” Buffy stopped herself and glanced at her mother. She abruptly switched into Rasheeni. “Can we talk this out when we get home, Katyan? Seeing Mom is pretty much the only upside to us getting kidnapped out of my office, and I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Yeah, especially since you’re already getting exactly what you want out of it,” he replied in kind. “I just did the math, love. By the time it’s morning here, I’ll have already missed that flight.”

“Do you honestly think this is about the job, and not your total refusal to discuss what will happen at home while you’re gone? I told you I wasn’t going to fight you about going.”

Joyce looked back and forth between them, uncomfortable with being present for what was clearly a brewing domestic spat, even though she couldn’t understand a word they were saying.

Buffy noticed her mother’s discomfort and stood up. “We’re the rudest houseguests ever,” she said in English. “Excuse us, please. I think we need to step outside for a minute. Katyan?”

“Suits me.” Spike followed Buffy to the front porch and resumed the discussion in Rasheeni as soon as he’d pulled the door closed behind him. “You may not have been fighting me outright, love, but you’ve been more than clear about not wanting me to take the job.”

“Well I’m sorry if me worrying about you -and not wanting you gone for half a year- pisses you off. Get the fuck over it.”

“Except it’s not just about that, is it?” he challenged.

“What? Is me wanting you home once in a while not enough?”

As the argument escalated, both failed to notice the man approaching the house. He paused just out of the reach of the light beside Joyce’s front door.

*~*~*

Today
Bwarlac City

Sean unlocked the front door and let himself into the darkened apartment, with Jenny Crowfoot and her katyan close behind. He reached back to flip on light switches for them, remembering they weren’t as familiar with the apartment or its lighting.

“I’ve never been in their place when they weren’t here,” Claren Hammet nearly whispered as he stepped into the living room. “It feels wrong.”

“I have,” Sean said at a more normal volume, dropping the mail on a table on his way to the kitchen. “Pretty often, actually. Anytime he’s going to be gone for a weekend on a job, and she has nothing going on here, she takes off to visit friends, and asks me to stop by to bring in the mail and newspapers, since I live so close. A lot of weekends they’re both available, they run off visiting together.”

Jenny laughed as she followed him. “I’ve never known either of them to be very good at sitting still.” She wrinkled her nose as she entered the kitchen. “What is that smell?”

“Three day old Marlegian pasta sauce,” Sean answered, gesturing to the garbage can in the corner. “I dumped it and washed the pot when I stopped by yesterday, but now the trash needs to go out.” He nodded to the refrigerator. “We should see what else needs to go.”

Jenny opened the fridge and pulled out a pile of blood packets from the local hospital. “Here. Check the dates on these while I inspect the dairy products.”

In the living room, Claren turned on the television, hoping to shake the eerie feeling of a seemingly abandoned home. “Katyan,” he called toward the kitchen. “There’s a prompt on the television screen, asking to confirm recording of some time slots on the New Salem Sports channel.”

“Press yes!” she answered fervently. “Spike will kill you if he can’t catch up on his football matches when he gets home.”

Claren confirmed the scheduled recordings, and began to surf through other channels, in search of some comforting background noise.

In the kitchen, perishables were being tossed in the trash.

“They are coming home, aren’t they?” Jenny added in a low whisper.

“Of course they are.” Sean made an effort to sound confident. “It’s probably just taking them a while to find a witch who can do it. I don’t think Terra’bo has vetted and licensed witches in every city, like we do. Or maybe they haven’t had time to. I know time moves slower there. How much slower, exactly…” He shrugged.

“Well I think the Frandrey should be using their witches to fix this, instead of sitting on their hands!” Jenny leaned back against the counter. “This is ridiculous, Sean. All that magic, right there on the base, and they’re doing nothing. I’m starting to have some serious second thoughts about who it is we ultimately work for.” She gestured to him. “And you should consider getting out of uniform.”

“Maybe they’re just trying to get everything organized before they launch a rescue op, Jenn. You don’t need to quit civil service over it. Spike and the captain will be portaled back onto base any day now. Just wait.”

“If they’re planning a rescue, why haven’t you been called to help?”

“Because no one on base but the two of us knows I’m anything but an absolute greenhorn of a corporal, permanently assigned to an office.”

“Who once took a long weekend in Port Shelby with your captain, where the two of you were completely off the grid, and not seen in Port Shelby at all,” she countered. “Someone had to have figured it out, Sean. The timing was suspicious, at least.”

Sean chose his words carefully. “If any of the Frandrey brass ever found out, they didn’t say so to me. Or to Buffy. And clearly not to Thurmond, or you’d have gotten your wish of seeing me go civilian long before you made it.” He pulled the garbage bag closed. “Come on, let’s get out of here. It’s getting late, and you two are paying a sitter.”

She held up a hand to stop him from leaving the room. “One more thing. Did you happen to get phone numbers for any of those fellows?”

He shook his head. “Why?”

Jenny looked toward the hallway, indicating the bedrooms. “I wonder where Spike would keep that information…”

“Probably on his phone, which I’m fairly certain is in Terra’bo.” He looked worried. “Jenn, tell me you’re not thinking of starting something on your own.”

“I have one phone number that could be useful, but I’d like to wait to call it until I have something to offer besides begging an old man for help.” A thought occurred to her. “Wait. We have her phone.”

“No, the Colonel and the investigation team have her phone. In three separate bags. It’s evidence.”

“Chea. I forgot they took it.” She again looked toward the hall. “Maybe just a little snooping?”

Sean sighed. “Jenn, I really think we should hold off for a couple more day–”

“Katyan! Get in here!”

They rushed to the living room to see what had gotten Claren’s attention.

The television was tuned to a newscast. The banner across the bottom of the screen read ‘Bwarlac Base Magical Attack.’

“Laba chea,” Sean whispered as they watched the coverage. “It’s leaked.”

Jenny crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, that’s one way to get the Frandrey off their hands.”

“Tell me you didn’t…”

“Of course not. But I’m not exactly upset about it.”

*~*~*

Today
Sunnydale

English words and phrases began to creep into the exchange between the pair on the front porch, giving their eavesdropper more than tone to go by in his assessment that he was hearing an argument. 

Eventually, Spike made the full switch back into English, and Buffy followed suit. “Katyan’plu laba grosha! Just admit it: If anyone but Persh had been the middle man for setting up this gig, you wouldn’t even blink! Hell, you’d probably have already scheduled leave to come visit me.”

“Or maybe I’d be scheduling leave to go up there for another reason.”

“Come off it, Buffy. It’s been two years. More than long enough for you and Persh to get right with each other.”

“Persh and I are fine, and you know it. Yes, it took me a while to feel like I really trusted him again, and don’t you dare even imply it wasn’t justified. But if you want to hang onto your delusions about this having anything to do with Persh, go right ahead. Enjoy your denial.”

Spike dropped his volume, feeling the sting of the implication. “I’m not in denial.”

“Hurla chea.” she lowered her volume to match, and played the trump card Thomas had suggested. “We both know this is really about Aaron. This job was the perfect opportunity for you to make sure you aren’t the one who takes the phone call this time.”

As their volume dropped, Riley moved closer to the steps, trying to catch every word.

“Katyan, please. I don’t wanna get into–”

“Oh, we’re talking about this.” She pointed at the porch floor. “If it means keeping your stubborn ass in Terra’bo until the Sa’yane job is over, we’re talking about this.”

“And exactly what is it you want me to say? That I don’t want to have to pick you up off the floor over this one more time? That maybe I should’ve let you walk us away before we got too involved?” He sighed and started to turn away, noticing the man at the base of the steps as he did so. “Oh, bloody hell.”

Buffy followed his gaze, wincing when she saw him. “Chea. Hi. Uh… how much of that was in English?”

“About half of it,” Riley answered, struggling to hide a knowing smile.

“Sorry. We, uh, have some stuff going on at home. If you’re here to see Faith, she isn’t home yet.” She gestured to the door. “I can ask Mom what time she usually gets in, if you want.”

Riley declined the offer with a shake of his head. “I was hoping for a private talk with you.”

Spike’s chuckle at the idea immediately dropped into a deadpanned, “No.”

“Caln leikat, caln kat,” Buffy snapped, gesturing toward Riley.

“Caln katyan, tae grosha laba,” Spike replied with an eye roll. “And you wonder why half the bloody Admiralty plans to dance at your funeral.” He waved carelessly toward Riley and turned to go inside. “Go on, then. You put up with her for a while.”

“Hurlaba,” Buffy muttered at her katyan as the door closed behind him. She put on a friendly smile as Riley climbed the porch steps. “What’s up?”

Riley could no longer hide his pleasure at what he’d walked into. His smile broke from all restraint. “The magic doesn’t work here, does it?”

“Huh?”

“Whatever spell that’s got you brainwashed. It’s already failing. That’s why you were arguing with him.”

Buffy nearly choked on her impulse to laugh. “No, I was arguing with him because he’s Spike.” She gestured vaguely to the house. “The idiot seems to think this is the perfect time to take a six month job in the middle of nowhere, and that I’m not wise to his motivations.” She leaned her back against the porch rail. “Sometimes we take some loud and roundabout ways to get to the point, but we eventually get there. Of course, getting kidnapped to Terra’bo is just adding another layer of complication. We seriously did not need this right now.”

“Buffy,” he said gently, bending low to look her in the eye. “You weren’t kidnapped. You were brought home. Whatever has happened to you to make you think you want to live like that–”

“Live like what?”

“With a Hostile, who thinks he has some kind of say over who you talk to, among other things.”

She gave in to her laughter. “You know that was just Spike being a jerk, right? That’s not a thing in Rasheeni culture, and it sure as hell isn’t a thing in our home. He just remembers not liking you, and is being an ass about you wanting to talk to me. Why did you think we were swearing at each other over it?”

Riley shrugged. “I didn’t know you were swearing.”

“Oh, yeah. That was in Rasheeni. Sorry. Habit.”

He leaned back against the railing beside her. “This is going to be tougher than I thought. You’ve been completely absorbed into that demonic culture.”

“I guess I have. But it’s not exactly a single culture. It’s a mix of human and Rasheeni, with some influences from the Jorosi. For which everyone should be grateful. Some days, knowing there’s a bottle of Jorosi whiskey waiting at home is the only thing that keeps me out of the stockade for trying to beat some sense into a superior officer.” Misinterpreting his frown, she added, “No worries. I have a standing offer from Spike and the guys he works with to break me out if I ever lose my temper enough to get locked up.”

“I meant that deprogramming you would be tough.”

She looked up at him, suddenly serious. “Riley, I haven’t been brainwashed. I don’t need deprogramming. All I need is a witch who is both willing and able to send me and my katyan home. The sooner, the better.”

“That’s exactly my point, Buffy. He’s not your ‘katyan.‘ He’s a vampire. Your home is right here, not in some demon dimension with other-demon whiskey. You aren’t some kind of demon-world soldier. You’re a college student. Don’t you remember that?”

“Of course I remember college. Vaguely. And I remember the vampire part. Kinda living with that, day in and day out.”

“I can help you remember it better. We can pick up where we left off and–”

“Whoa!” Buffy pushed away from the railing abruptly. She paced a few steps before turning back to face him. “No. I’m only willing to let you get this out of your system to a certain point, Leikat. There is no chance of any ‘picking up where things left off’ for any of this. Not college, not being at home in Terra’bo, and especially not you and me getting back together. I’ve been off the market since I was nineteen, and as of five years ago, there’s no going back.”

“You’re still nineteen. You’ve only been gone for six months.”

“No, Riley. I’m not and I haven’t. I’m twenty-eight years old. I have friends, family, and a career in Rasheen. And I have a spiritually and legally sanctified lifemate inside this very house. Maybe that doesn’t mean much to you, but it means everything to me. That is a line that is not crossed.”

“Curry powder!” came a shout from inside the house.

Buffy looked toward the night sky and sighed. “Though some days, I wonder if it should be.”

Spike threw open the front door and practically jumped out onto the porch in excitement. “Buffy! Your mum and I got to talking about cooking and–”

“Yeah. I heard. I think half the neighborhood did.”

“First thing in the morning, I’ll hit up a market. Anything else you want to stock up on?”

“Uh, Terra’bo money?”

His enthusiasm instantly deflated. “Think your mum would be willing to cover it?”

“For as much curry powder as you’ll want to buy? She’ll need to take out a second mortgage. But I guess it can’t hurt to ask her for a little spending money. You might as well get some hot chocolate mix with marshmallows while you’re here. We’re almost out, and there’s no telling when we’ll get back to that specialty shop in New Salem.”

“Great idea.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek.

“And if we make it back in time for you to go to Sa’yane, you’ll want to take some of it with you.”

He looked at her quizzically. “You mean that, love?”

“I told you I wasn’t going to fight you on this. Mostly, I just wanted you to admit why you wanted to go.” She shrugged. “Mission accomplished? Kinda?”

“So you’ll put in for leave to come up there for a month or so?”

“I’ll think about it.” She waved him away. “Go make your shopping list. We’re talking.”

“Your shopping list, you mean,” Riley corrected. He turned to Spike. “You’re not really going to try to go to a grocery store in the morning, are you? I mean, I guess it would be funny, but…”

Buffy and Spike looked at each other as they understood what he was getting at. “Oh,” she finally said. “I think I kinda forgot. I feel stupid.”

“How do you think I feel?” Spike countered. “It’s not too late. I might be able to catch an open shop tonight. Join me?”

“If you and Mom can scrounge up some civvies for me, sure.”

“I’ll ask her.” Spike stopped in mid-departure. “Katyan, about the job… I don’t deserve you.”

She gave him a wink. “I know.”

“And about bringing up that old baggage with Persh…”

“Make it up to me with a curry that isn’t pink, ok?”

“Deal.”

“Pink?” Riley asked when they were alone again.

“The native herbs he’s been using to substitute for turmeric turn everything bright pink,” Buffy explained. “Spike’s kitchen is a weird place, full of bizarre sagas about marshmallows, curry powder, and trying to satisfy my occasional craving for a real beef cheeseburger without driving hundreds of miles to the western side of the old human territory, which is pretty much the only place there are cows.” She shrugged. “That’s the life of off-worlders. I came from the magical land of cheeseburgers on every corner, and got spoiled. …But hurla cheese really is fantastic. Rasheeni dairy farms are pretty magical in their own right.”

“Yeah,” Riley whispered. “You’ve always liked cheese.” He cleared his throat. “So, uh, I guess I’m not getting anywhere with you tonight, huh?”

“Or ever again, if you mean that the way it sounded.” 

“I meant that I need to find a better way to get through to you, Buffy.” He took her hand. “I love you, and I want to fix all this for you. To give you your life back. And– And bring you cheeseburgers whenever you want. Whatever it takes to get you back on track. To get us back on track.”

Her urge to withdraw her hand was swallowed by a wave of guilt at the desperation in his voice. She looked him in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Riley. I messed up. I should’ve come back to tell you in person that I’d moved on, or at least sent a letter for you. I just got caught up in my own– No. There’s really no excuse. You deserved better.”

Riley tightened his grip on her hand. “I’m not holding a grudge. And I haven’t given up on you.”

“It wasn’t kind of me to leave you waiting,” she continued, ignoring his interruption. “Pretty damned inconsiderate, actually. But now that you know I did move on, you need to respect that, and to move on, as well.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

She pulled her hand away. “I’m not asking, Riley.”

Before he could reply, she’d gone inside, closing the door behind her.

<Chapter 13: Bad Magic
Chapter 15: Dough Girls>