Page 110 of Bright Dead Things
They left the Shoppe, Bran locking up behind them. Jupitercaweda greeting from the top of Cillian’s truck—his personal one, not his work-issued ranger truck. Aisling climbed into the back of the cab while he and Cillian took the front seats. The drive into town was easy, Pelham in that late-summer slowdown where the tourists passing through were mostly gone and only the locals remained.
Niamh wasn’t local, but she smiled at them like she was when they pushed open the door to Red’s Diner. They weren’t the only ones not wanting to cook tonight, judging by how full the place was. It was early to eat, but everyone was still mostly abiding by the old curfew. No one stayed out late these days, not wanting to be in the forest after dark.
“Sit wherever you like,” Niamh said, shoving some menus into Cillian’s hands. “I will bring you coffee.”
“Uh, it’s a little late for coffee. A beer would be better,” Cillian said as Aisling went to pick out a booth.
Niamh frowned, muttering something under her breath Bran couldn’t understand. “Fine. A beer. Go sit.”
She was still beautiful, and probably made a killing in tips, but Bran would always know what skin lived beneath her glamour. She stayed for Cillian because Verlin, Seamus, and Carrick couldn’t, but that didn’t mean Bran would ever trust her.
Cillian took his hand, and Bran followed him to the booth Aisling had picked out, a milkshake already poured and sitting in front of her, courtesy of Lottie. The older woman must have seen them pull up and had it ready for Aisling. Every time they’d come to Red’s Diner, Aisling had been given whatever milkshake or dessert she wanted for free. It put a smile on her face, so Bran had bitten back his protest and settled for stuffing twenty-dollar bills into the tip jar on the way out.
Cillian handed Aisling a menu but shared his with Bran. Niamh came back a few minutes later to take their order, better at it now than she had been on her first day earlier in the week. They’d passed her off as a friend of Bran’s from Boston, looking to escape the city for a time. She slept in Cillian’s extra bedroom while Cillian slept in Bran’s bed, and all anyone in town could say was “You boys make such a cute couple. It’s about time.”
Lottie beamed at them as she set their beer on the table, her eyes ontheir clasped hands. Cillian smiled and chatted gamely with her for a minute while Aisling slurped at her milkshake.
“We got some fresh strawberry-and-rhubarb pie for dessert. Don’t let me forget to cut you some slices,” Lottie said before bustling off.
Dinner was a low-key affair, and everyone was kind enough to leave them alone. Small-town manners won out against curiosity, and Bran was able to eat his hamburger and chili cheese fries in peace. They lingered over pie after their meal, letting Aisling play some arcade games while they each finished their beer, Cillian’s thigh pressed up against Bran’s, his hand on Bran’s knee under the table, present in a way the ghosts in his memory never had been.
It was addicting.
He didn’t know how he had lived without this for seven years.
He’d label that stupid decision as temporary insanity.
But that was in the past, and when they left Red’s Diner, they went back to the Shoppe together. Aisling tumbled out of the truck, using her own key to open up the front door. Bran watched her go, a faint smile on his face, the ache of loss in his chest still new, but at least he still had her.
“Hey,” Cillian said as he came around the truck. “I promised Aisling on the way back into town we’d watch a movie together.”
“Can’t wait,” Bran said, closing the truck door. Then he paused, turning his head, staring into the woods across the road.
Cillian came up beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist, the line of his body a tense thing. “What is it?”
“I thought I saw something.” They stayed there, listening to the wind whistle through the trees, rustling countless leaves as the shadows grew ever longer. After a moment, Bran shook his head. “Must have been nothing. Come on. Let’s get inside.”
Cillian kissed him, soft and slow, the hands sliding beneath Bran’s T-shirt warm and possessive. “All right.”
They headed into the Shoppe, and if Bran looked back over his shoulder at the woods before closing the door, well, no one could blame him. He knew what the forest hid in its shadowy depths, but whatever he thought he’d seen, it wasn’t anything to worry about right then.
It was just a trick of the light.
