“Do you think you ought to?” she asked, reaching over to rest her small hand on his knee.
The small touch was almost his undoing.
“Yes,” he said, his voice cracking. “They deserve to know I was a fool. I hurt them, and I can’t undo that.”
“But you can say you’re sorry,” Abigail said softly. “And while it may not seem like enough, sometimes that’s all it takes.”
Roan looked over at her, and she offered him a smile that—while it didn’t fix everything—somehow made it better.
“When we get out of here, I’ll talk to him. I promise. And I’ll bring the letters.”
The thought made the knot in his chest loosen, even if the idea of admitting what he’d done was terrifying. Nat would be furious with him, and for good reason.
“Your brother is all the family you have left,” Abigail said. “I think the two of you should do what it takes to become friends again. And if you need my help to do that, then I will be glad to help. If I had any siblings, I can only imagine how helpful it would have been when I was struggling with the way my father treated me. Perhaps healing your relationship with your brother might heal more than you think it will.”
She took her hand from his knee and reached for the notebook. “Now, enough with one depressing topic. Let’s move on to the next and see if we can’t figure out a way to make you spend less time in your office.”
“You don’t think I’m a terrible person?” he asked her, suddenly desperate to know her answer.
Abigail sighed and looked up at him with regret in her eyes. “I’ve done things I wish I hadn’t done, too. I helped my father do some very mean things and thought I was helping us survive. So no, Roan, I don’t think you’re a terrible person.”
Tears filled her eyes and, while he regretted making her cry, he couldn’t regret knowing that she didn’t think he was a terrible person.
“I think you are a person who has been through so much more than a boy should go through, and you’re doing your best. That’s all we can do.”
Roan found himself blinking back tears and let out a barking laugh. “Well, isn’t that insightful.”
She chuckled through her own weepy eyes and reached up to wipe a tear from his face. “Aren’t we a good pair.”
It wasn’t a question, but he wanted to answer it anyway.
“Yes, we are,” he said, leaning over to wrap his arm around her shoulder and press a kiss to her forehead.
They were a perfect pair.
Chapter twelve
Abigail
Thefiddleplayed,andthe tavern patrons talked, and Abigail just enjoyed being in her element and watching Roan in his.
They were running out of time. She knew it. But until they did, she meant to enjoy this.
She didn’t know if Roan would remember anything after tomorrow, or if she would, or what would happen with the curse at all. But this might be their last night, if she remembered correctly what day Beastie had destroyed the ball.
She poured Conrad another ale and slid it over in front of him before he could finish his first one.
“I’m not done yet,” he said, gesturing to his still half-full glass.
“I know,” she said.
If she couldn’t be ready for anything else, she could be ready for Conrad’s next drink.
Roan appeared next to her, his presence grounding her. Maybe she didn’t know what their future held, but if the two of them were together for it, she had no doubt that it would be okay.
Even if they forgot everything, they would find their way to each other again.
At least, she hoped that was how it would work.
