“Me, too.” He put his arm around her shoulders and nestled her close, kissing the top of her head. As warm a gesture of agreement as she could ask for. He didn’t need a household—of course, he wouldn’t think of banners. He might earn enough for himself, but how could anyone feed another mouth traveling the way he did?
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The market ended, Dak stopped playing for audiences, and Enid felt the timing as a gnawing in her gut. She leaked tears for no apparent reason. Dak would leave. He said he traveled south during the winter months, to the fishing villages on the coast. He had places he could stay if storms came up. He’d traveled like this for a couple of years now; he wasn’t worried.
She hated it but wouldn’t say anything because her voice would come out whining and terrible—and then he’d never come back, would he? She would tell him she’d miss him. Kiss him and try to remember him, in case he didn’t come back.
Enid went to find him in town—he’d been sleeping on the clinic porch, since the weather stayed warm—and saw Tomas talking to him. She held back, trying to stay out of sight while watching, to suss out what was happening. Tomas wasn’t wearing the brown uniform, but his stance was pure investigator, pure intimidation. Dak had his arms crossed, smiling a flippant smile and looking anywhere but directly at Tomas.
Enid wanted to kill Tomas. This was none of his business. He had no right to interfere. Furious, she decided that rather than kill him, she’d avoid him. Avoid him forever.
Except before she could march off, he spotted her, because that was the kind of thing he was good at. He finished talking to Dak, who made a half bow at him before going to fetch his guitar where he’d leaned it against a bench, and Tomas left the square—walking straight toward her.
“Really?” she spat, to get in the first word, so she wouldn’t have to find out what righteous declaration he’d make to her. “Was that really necessary?”
“What do you think I said to him?” Tomas said.
She had to shrug, because there were so many things he might have said. “Probably something along the lines of ‘Hurt her and you’ll regret it.’?”
“Exactly right,” Tomas said, grinning. “You should be an investigator.”
“Just leave me alone, will you!”
And so he did, continuing on toward home, smiling a little. Not even Dak taking her hand and kissing her forehead could make her smile after that.
“Ignore him,” she said, fuming. “Whatever he said, just . . . he’s just making a pest out of himself.”
“He’s only worried about you.”
Yes, she knew that. She ought to be grateful that she had people looking out for her. But they didn’t know Dak. They didn’t know her.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, after she’d settled down a bit. “You like your household, yeah? You’re close to it?”
“Lived there my whole life,” she said.
“But you’re not looking for a banner or anything. You don’t have a real job yet, right?” A vocation that would root her in place and draw her forward through her life. No, she didn’t. She still got by helping anyone who needed it, and that seemed all right.
“I can’t seem to decide,” she said.
“That’s all right, you know. Not deciding.”
“I know that.”
He took both her hands and turned to face her. “I wondered if maybe you’d like to travel with me for a bit? It’s a good chance to see some of the world. That’s always a good thing, I’ve thought. If you don’t like it, you can come back, easy as that. But . . . you seem like you might want to travel.” He smiled that bright, sunny smile that could light up the night.
She matched his grin. This . . . this was what she’d wanted all along, but it hadn’t even occurred to her to ask. And she didn’t have to because he just knew.
“That sounds amazing,” she said, and suddenly she could see into her own future. She would get away. Make her way as best she could, like Dak did.
She would travel the Coast Road.
CHAPTER FIVE • PASADAN
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Blood on the Wall
Enid showed the smear of blood on the wall to Tomas.