Page 20 of To Regret a Raven

MY DEFINITION

“Raven is such an interesting last name. If you don’t mind me asking, where is your dad from?”

Fisher bristled as he walked up behind Drie—who, to her credit, didn’t even flinch at the thoughtless question.

“It’s not my father’s name,” she answered. “Raven is actually my adoptive grandmother’s maiden name. And it’s just your standard Old English surname. A little rare, but nothing particularly special. Considering I don’t share any blood with my grandmother, though, I can’t claim that heritage for myself. And I can’t say I know, or care to know, anything about my birth father’s origins either.”

Fisher paused to enjoy the uncomfortable, regretful look on the man’s face who sat inhissticky diner seat, eatinghisfavorite breakfast of chocolate chip waffles. The only thing keeping him from wishing he’d choke on them was the knowledge that Drie would go all superwoman and give the asshole mouth-to-mouth.

“Right,” the guy mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, so much for that segue, but the heritage fair is in town next week, and I was wondering?—”

“Drie!” Fisher called out—anything to make the nightmare playing out before his eyes end. He hurried forward, slipping into the booth at her side, and threw an arm along the backside of the bench. Not touching, but close enough. He noticed that she’d stiffened at his voice, but she had yet to react to his presence, remaining preternaturally still at his side. Fisher looked down at the top of her head, stubbornly tilted away and steadfastly refusing to acknowledge him, and asked, “Can we talk for a minute?”

Her lips tightened dangerously, but the home-wrecker on the other side of the table beat her to the punch. “Uh, hey, man. She was talking to me.”

Fisher cut him a side eye before directing his next question, once again, toward Drie. “Who’s your friend?”

“Maverick. Or Mav,” the friend interrupted, again, jerking a chin at Fisher. A memory flared from the night before the breakup, her words ringing through his mind.“Maverick doesn’t really talk all that much, if I’m being honest. He just keeps his head down and does the work.”Fisher scowled as he watched Maverick’s eyes return to Drie, annoyed but undeterred. “Now, about that fair?—”

“Drie boycotts fairs,” Fisher announced, silently rejoicing that the lie had finally broken through the ice shield she’d constructed, her blue eyes scorching him in his seat. He held her eyes, challenging her to disagree. He bent forward, casting his voice like he was offering some sage guidance. “She opposes the animal cruelty.”

“You’re thinking of a circus,” Maverick deadpanned. “But regardless, it’s an art fair—history reenactments, costumes, crafts, vendors.”Damn.“No animals,” he emphasized. “And who areyouexactly?”

“Fisher.”

“Ah.” Maverick hummed, recognition flaring and fading into a mixture of wariness and condescension. Fisher glanced back at Drie, who also appeared decidedly unamused, her mouth pinched to the left and eyes squinted.So she’s told this guy about our relationship.Alarm bells were ringing faintly in the back of his mind. Logically, Fisher knew he’d been making the wrong choices since the moment he had walked into the diner. However, he hadn’t anticipated how visceral his reaction would be to the very real sight of her moving on.

Finding her had not been easy. He had no way of knowing if she even got his messages or calls, as she never responded to them, and she’d definitely blocked him on social media, so he drove to her apartment building and took up residence on the steps, settling in for a wait. However, it hadn’t been half an hour before he spotted her walking down the sidewalk toward her favorite diner, side by side with a man more than twice her size. A fucking lumberjack of a giant, with a fitted grey tee stretched tight across his broad shoulders and a full beard lining his jaw.

Sitting across from the guy was no less intimidating than seeing him from afar. Fisher wasn’t a small guy, but Maverick wasn’t even in the same ballpark.In for a penny, in for a pound,he thought with a mental shrug.

“Pretty sure our calendars are slammed that weekend.”

“I was only askingher, and I didn’t mention a day.” He smirked. “Besides, it’s a three-week event, including weekdays.”

“Well, shit.” Fisher leaned back on the bench, scratching his cheek.

Drie sighed and chose that moment to speak up. “The fair sounds fun, Mav. I’d love to go.” She turned to a slack-jawed Fisher. “And if you wouldn’t mind, we need to get ba?—”

“No.”

“No?” She cocked her head, voice ominous.

“No, you can’t go to the fairwithhim,” he continued, panic slithering through his veins. “I’ll take you.”

Drie poked a shaking finger violently into his chest, no doubt leaving a bruise. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, Fisher Bree, but you have no right to an opinion on my choices, much less the right to make them for me.Youmade the choice to end us, so deal with it.”

He waved a furious hand in Maverick’s direction. “This guy just wants to sleep with you, Drie.”

“And? So did you!”

“I did not! Well, I did, but it was secondary. You know what I mean.”

“Right,” she mocked. “Because you want to be myfriend. Well, as you can see, I’m making new friends. And let me tell you something, Fisher,friendsdon’t cockblockfriends.”

“I don’t want to be your fucking friend!” he announced, his voice rising. “That’s why I wanted to talk. ’Cause I’m an iceberg, and you’re a bird, and I love you!”

Drie reeled back, momentarily stunned. She blinked up at him, her eyes clear and disarmed just enough for a flash of hope to swell, only to be deflated just as quickly when the shock melted away into icy fury.