Bryce said, “I wanted to come by to say thanks.” Ruhn only stared at her. She watched the sunball game on the TV above the bar. “For the other day. Night. For looking out for me.”

Ruhn squinted at the tiled ceiling.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m just checking to see if the sky’s falling, since you’re thanking me for something.”

She shoved his shoulder. “Asshole.”

“You could have called or messaged.” He sipped from his whiskey.

“I thought it’d be more adultlike to do it face-to-face.”

Her brother surveyed her carefully. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ve been better.” She admitted, “I feel like a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not.”

“Oh yeah? Half a dozen people warned me, you included, to be on my guard around Hunt, and I laughed in all your faces.” She blew out a breath. “I should have seen it.”

“In your defense, I didn’t think Athalar was still that ruthless.” His blue eyes blazed. “I thought his priorities had shifted lately.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you and dear old Dad.”

“He visited you?”

“Yep. Told me I’m just as big a piece of shit as he himself is. Like father, like daughter. Like calls to like or whatever.”

“You’re nothing like him.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Ruhn.” She tapped the bar. “Anyway, that’s all I came to say.” She noted the Starsword hanging at his side, its black hilt not reflecting the firstlights in the room. “You on patrol tonight?”

“Not until midnight.” With his Fae metabolism, the whiskey would be out of his system long before then.

“Well … good luck.” She hopped off the stool, but Ruhn halted her with a hand on her elbow.

“I’m having some people over at my place in a couple weeks to watch the big sunball game. Why don’t you come over?”

“Pass.”

“Just come for the first period. If it isn’t your thing, no problem. Leave when you want.”

She scanned his face, weighing the offer there. The hand extended.

“Why?” she asked quietly. “Why keep bothering?”

“Why keep pushing me away, Bryce?” His voice strained. “It wasn’t just about that fight.”

She swallowed, her throat thick. “You were my best friend,” she said. “Before Danika, you were my best friend. And I … It doesn’t matter now.” She’d realized back then that the truth didn’t matter—she wouldn’t let it matter. She shrugged, as if it’d help lighten the crushing weight in her chest. “Maybe we could start over. On a trial basis only.”

Ruhn started to smile. “So you’ll come watch the game?”

“Juniper was supposed to come over that day, but I’ll see if she’s up for it.” Ruhn’s blue eyes twinkled like stars, but Bryce cut in, “No promises, though.”

He was still grinning when she rose from her barstool. “I’ll save a seat for you.”

Chapter Seventy

70