Page 48 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
She closed her eyes for a beat, as if gathering patience—or courage—but her lips twitched as she took it from him, quickly securing her hair into a pony.
“You need to stop this,” she muttered.
“When you tell me what I’m doing, we can talk about that.” Lochlan caught her hand and tugged her toward the donut cart. “For now, I think you’re hungry. And if I don’t get you a donut soon, bad things will happen. Remember?”
With food and drinks in hand—Nia’s beloved donut included—they wandered between the small artisan booths. Handmade pottery, cozy autumn crafts, and scented candles tempted passersby, the crisp air filled with the scent of spice and smoke.
Their group stopped outside a fortune-teller’s booth, its rich purple-and-gold banner catching Ivy’s eye.
“Oh my goddess,” Ivy breathed. “I haven’t had my cards read in forever!”
“Any time you want, pixie, I’ll read your cards,” Becket said with a wink, but as his eyes traced the intricate artwork on the banner he froze. Lochlan watched recognition flicker across his friend’s face and his own stomach sank. He knew that design. The careful swirls of ink, the vivid lines—he’d seen those exact doodles in old notebooks, scrawled in the margins of one of Zora’s journals.
Becket had four sisters, but only Zora shared his gift. Their father, a seer himself, had disappeared long ago, leaving behind a void that had shaped Becket and his sister in ways they rarely spoke about. Though their mother had remarried and brought two more daughters into their family, the shadow of their father’s absence lingered.
Ivy tried to tug the group toward the booth, her excitement contagious. Nia followed with a small laugh, but Becket didn’t move.
“You two go on,” Lochlan said, keeping his tone light as he stepped closer to Becket. “We’ll wait here.” He gestured casually toward the booth. “I don’t cheat on my own seer.”
Ivy giggled, easily distracted by the thought of a reading. Nia, however, glanced back at Lochlan, her brow furrowed. He gave her a small nod, hoping she wouldn’t question it. After a brief hesitation, she let Ivy pull her toward the purple-and-gold drapes.
As soon as they disappeared behind the curtain, Lochlan turned to Becket. “How long has it been?”
Becket’s easy grin slipped and he ran a hand through his hair. “Fourteen months, maybe. Not that anyone’s counting.”
Lochlan crossed his arms. “What happened this time?”
“The usual.” Becket let out a low chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “We had words. I told her she was reckless, that she needed to stop running off to every small-town carnival or pop-up fair like it was her life’s calling. She told me I needed to stop projecting my shit onto her and figure out my own mess.” He shrugged. “She’s not wrong.”
“You think that’s why she hasn’t called?” Lochlan asked, his tone carefully neutral.
Becket shoved his hands into his pockets. “Nah, that’s on me. I let her leave and didn’t say a damn thing after. Figured she’d be better off without my overprotective crap. Zora’s got enough to deal with without me breathing down her neck.”
Lochlan studied his friend. “She’s your sister. You think she’s not waiting for you to fix this?”
Becket’s crooked grin didn’t reach his eyes. “What’s there to fix? I’m a hypocrite, Lochlan. I’ve got my own commitment issues, but hers are too much for me to handle? It’s stupid, I know.” He let out a long breath. “Anyway, I’ve got no business telling her what to do, playing big brother when it suits me, and ignoring my own advice. She deserves better.”
“You’re still her brother.” Lochlan shook his head. “Say something tonight. You might not get another chance.”
Becket grumbled something noncommittal under his breath.
“And it could be worse,” Lochlan pointed out. “You could have a sister who enjoys setting things on fire.”
Becket shot him a look. “Way to be depressing.”
“Just offering perspective,” Lochlan said, his gaze wandering past Becket, toward the swirling crowds beyond the festival, as his thoughts drifted.
He and Becket had always understood each other in ways that didn’t need words. The pain of missing parents. The burden of being left behind. But where Becket still had a sister to fight for, Lochlan had spent years pretending he didn’t care that his own siblings never fought for him. And he’d been good at it.
He still was.
Lochlan opened his mouth to say something else, but before the words could form, Ivy emerged from the booth. She avoided their eyes, her brightness dimmed and her brows knit as she stared at the ground.
Lochlan stepped forward, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“What? Oh. Nothing.” Ivy blinked and forced a laugh, waving off his question. “Everything’s fine. She’s just doing Nia’s reading now.”
Becket’s expression shifted, his earlier emotions slipping away in an instant. He stepped closer to Ivy with a smile that managed to be both reassuring and mischievous. “How about I go win you the biggest stuffed bear in the area?”
