Page 107 of Dream Weaver

“I figured I’d work on the last couple of handles today,” he said — to Walt, not to me.

Ouch.

“Well, let’s get started,” Walt announced, and everyone got to work.

Cooper stuck to the woodworking corner of the shop, and the few times we interacted, his demeanor was cold and disinterested. My weak attempts at questions or comments got stinging, single-syllable answers.

All in all, the same treatment I’d given him his first few days in the shop. I deserved it. But damn, did it hurt.

The next time I stopped to heat the metal in the forge, I rubbed my forehead against my sleeve to dry off the sweat.

A full minute later, I was still there, because the tears kept coming.

I had ruined the best thing that had ever happened to me — well, second-best, after Claire. I would be alone forever. I was a terrible person, and I could barely wield magic. Nothing useful anyway. And when it came to dream weaving…

Well, if I could do that, I would dream up a world where all my mistakes were erased. Where it was just me, Claire, and my sisters. A small, simple world without pain, heartache, or outside interference. Especially the kind with warm brown eyes that came wrapped in soft flannel.

But life didn’t work that way, did it?

“You okay, Abby?” Bob asked softly.

I snapped my head up, wiping the last tears in the process.

“Fine. Thank you.”

The sound of my hammer drowned out the words, but so be it.

Chapter Twenty-Six

COOPER

I thought my first few days in the metal shop had been the worst, but that one took the cake. At least it was my last day.

I’d spent all of Sunday desperately looking for solutions before finally giving in. Abby had made it perfectly clear that she was done with me.

Fight for her! Talk to her!my bear insisted.

I wanted to, butnomeant no, and I had to respect that…even if it killed me.

I loved her, and deep down, I was sure she loved me back. But Abby was just too scarred for a relationship. A healthy one, at least. The kind I’d taken for granted my whole life.

So, lucky me. That didn’t make my soul weep any less, though. For me, and for Abby.

My mother liked to say that love was infinite — a party that always had space for one more. When someone left the party, they left an empty chair, like Peter had, but the love was still there.

But maybe not everyone was up for that kind of party. Maybe all Abby could manage was tea for three or four. The same three or four, with no tolerance for party crashers like me.

Plus, there was Claire, and I got that Abby needed to put her first. I just wishedfirstdidn’t meanonly.

I took a deep breath. Ultimately, all that mattered was that Claire was happy. But, damn. I would really have liked to contribute to that, even in a small way.

I glanced at the drawings decorating my locker. I would be taking those with me, for sure.

Heaving a sad sigh, I got back to sanding the edges of my latest ax handle. If only regrets could be smoothed out as easily.

About an hour into that torturous day, a motorcycle revved outside, and everyone turned.

“Well, look who’s back in town,” Bob said fondly.

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