Page 33 of Primal Bonds
“No, we’re fine.” They each waved a hand, eager to assure her there was no problem. She’d always had a gift for soothing people’s feathers, making them smile. It was why she was such a good waitress.
But was there more to it than that? Her mom had said Evie’s way with people came from Fane.
Damn it, she was not going to think about it. Fae or not, what did it matter? It wasn’t like she could do anything useful, like change straw into gold. Now that would be a real Gift.
She got off work a little after eleven. She’d taken her car this time, because after last night, she was wary about walking home after dark. Now she came out of the restaurant to find a light rain falling—and she hadn’t brought an umbrella.
She grabbed her keys and her backpack and jogged to where she’d parked her ancient blue compact under a street light—just in case.
At least it was a warm rain. Evie swiped the water from her face and started the car. The ignition sputtered and went dead. The car had been her mother’s, and it had grown cranky with age. It especially didn’t like wet weather.
“C’mon, hon.” She crossed her fingers and tried again, and this time the engine ground to life.
The half-mile drive home took under five minutes. She drove slowly, the black lampposts casting a warm yellow glow on the rainy streets. Grace Harbor had once been a workingman’s town, with crabbers, fishers and a herring cannery. But these days, it had a funky, small-town vibe with mom-and-pop stores alongside art galleries, antique shops and upscale restaurants like the Wine Bar.
She passed a couple of her neighbors out for a stroll, umbrellas lifted. It was hard to believe that just last night a man had almost died right in her backyard.
She parked her car on the concrete pad behind the house, took a thorough look around, and then sprinted up the steps to her back door.
Kyler wasn’t home yet, but there was nothing unusual about that. His curfew on the weekends was midnight, and he usually came home the last possible second. That wouldn’t have bothered her, but the last few weeks he’d started pushing the curfew—coming home at twelve-thirty or one and daring her to object.
Tonight was one of those nights. She started texting him five minutes after midnight.
At least he replied, telling her not to worry.
Too late, she replied. I’m worried and I want you home. NOW.
She could see he’d viewed the text, but he didn’t reply. She sat on the easy chair, fuming, as she finished her paper. Because she was worried about him, especially after last night. What if that night fae came back? Her whole body went cold, just thinking about it.
It was almost one o’clock before Kyler sauntered in the front door, red-eyed and smelling of pot. He flopped on the couch and regarded her through slit eyes.
“Go ahead. Tell me what a bad boy I am.”
She clenched her jaw so hard her teeth hurt. “You’re only sixteen, Kyler. Too young to be out after midnight, and too damn young to be smoking weed.”
“Go to hell, Evie.” He rested his arm over his eyes. “You’re not my mom.”
Her stomach sucked in. For a few seconds, she was blinded by hurt and anger.
“No,” she said as calmly as she could, “but I’m responsible for you until you’re eighteen. If you get arrested, it’s on my watch.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell them it’s me, not you.”
“You think I care about that? I care about you, asshat. And I promised Mom I’d take care of you, damn it.”
He raised up on his elbows to glare at her. “Fuck your promise. If taking care of me is so hard, then forget it. Mom never should’ve asked—”
“Oh, for Chrissake.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“But I mean it, Kyler. From now on, you’d better be home at midnight, or I swear I’ll—” She halted because she didn’t have anything to threaten him with, and they both knew it.
Kyler levered himself off the couch. “Okay, okay,” he grumbled. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
She watched as he stalked out of the living room, his thin body rigid, his T-shirt a little too small. He’d grown six inches this year so that she was barely able to keep him in clothes.
She blew out a breath and rested her head on the back of the chair.
