Chapter 150: She Wanted Him Proud, Not Polite

Dove moved before Edrik did and walked herself straight into his waiting hand. He steadied her without tightening the practice grip, which was considerate of him and extremely annoying.

"I saw your shoulder move," she said.

"I was breathing. I plan to keep doing that, so we’ll need another sign."

Thorne made a noise behind his cup, and Dove pointed at him with her free hand. "You’re supposed to be on my side."

"I am. That’s why I’m letting him have this job."

The service yard was quieter after lunch. Restaurant workers had taken their empty crates inside, and shade from the back wall covered the folded blankets. Dove could see her shop through the open rear door. Nobody was going to find her missing and decide that being married had finally distracted her from selling things.

She asked Sprout why its helpful little figure never seemed surprised by an approaching hand.

"The illustration demonstrates a movement. It does not make choices against you."

"Would it kill you to show it getting something wrong? I feel like I’m being judged by a drawing."

"A slower exercise is available."

She almost refused because she had already done the slower version. Then she looked at Edrik’s hand and admitted the actual problem. She could turn correctly when she planned the turn. She lost the movement when she had to notice his grip first.

"Can we separate those parts?" she asked him. "You grab, I say which way I’d go, and then I move. I keep trying to do all of it before my brain catches up."

Edrik’s expression warmed. "That’s a good adjustment. Show me."

He let her name the direction before moving. The first time she chose badly and understood why when he showed the angle. The second time she turned too far. On the fourth, her wrist slipped free and her feet stayed where she wanted them.

Dove looked down, surprised by the absence of disaster.

"Did you let go?"

"I didn’t."

"Edrik, I mean it."

"So do I. I held the grip we agreed to practice. You found the opening and kept your weight under you. That was yours."

She could have kissed him for that alone. Instead, she waited until the next attempt worked too, because she wanted the proof more than she wanted a nice answer.

Then she caught the front of his shirt and pulled him down. He met her halfway, one hand settling at her waist without turning a small victory into another lesson. His mouth was warm, his smile worse, and she forgot the imaginary drawing long enough to enjoy being pleased with herself.

Thorne applauded softly from the step. Dove broke the kiss just enough to tell him she expected chocolate for the occasion.

"For escaping him or going back?" he asked.

"Both were excellent decisions. Don’t be cheap with your wife."

Edrik laughed against her cheek. Sprout quietly added three Favor from the genuine amusement and delight, bringing the balance to seventeen. She dismissed the little notice before it tried to become the most important part of what had happened.

Later, Thorne answered questions about their salvaged goods. All four shampoo bottles had sold before the lesson, so Dove left the empty vending cabinet closed for the day. Dove sat with a notebook and a drink. She wrote down the mistake that had mattered, not a flattering version of the lesson. Moving early felt safer, but it meant deciding before she had enough information. That was useful outside the yard too, unfortunately.

Edrik brought her a square of chocolate on a clean plate. "Your payment."

"I was joking about charging you."

"I wasn’t joking about liking the result."

He tapped the notebook beside her hand. She looked at what she had written, then at him, and felt an embarrassingly warm squeeze behind her ribs. He had noticed the work after the impressive part was over.

She broke the chocolate in half and held his piece up. He took it from her fingers while looking at her face, clearly aware that she had been attempting to behave normally.

The shop lights flickered before she could decide what to say next. The wall fan slowed, caught again, and sent a warm breath across the counter. Outside, someone swore from the repair business.

Dove looked at the fan and then at the shelves. They had batteries, lanterns, a smaller battery fan for themselves, and a movie player she would defend from any man who suggested trading it. They did not need to panic-buy the first thing Sprout offered.

"Show me what we already have that can run without the wall socket," she asked.

Sprout brought up her recorded purchases. It could list the known items, but it could not know whether a forgotten battery still held a charge. Dove tried the matching batteries in their small fan, separating the ones that ran it from sizes she couldn’t test yet.

Thorne came to the counter when the customer line thinned. "We can look for more tomorrow."

"The auto-parts place on the road past the brick pharmacy had an intact rear wall," she said. "We passed it coming in. If the front’s safe enough to check, they might have something useful for charging. Or someone who knows what all those cables actually do."

Edrik nodded, then reminded her they had only seen the road side. She wrote that down too. A building looking promising from a moving truck was not permission to walk under its roof.

She wanted cold drinks and a bedroom that stopped feeling like somebody’s armpit by sunset. She also wanted the three of them to keep coming home from their clever little outings. Both seemed reasonable.

A familiar voice called from the shop door. The Pump Depot carrier stood outside with dust on his boots and a folded letter in his hand. Dove’s good mood loosened before she even saw the seal.

"The answer came through," he said, holding out the folded page across the counter.

Thorne moved beside her without reaching over. Edrik stayed near the back doorway, his earlier smile gone.

Dove set her notebook down, wiped chocolate from one finger, and accepted the letter. Ash had finally found a way onto the counter of the life she had built without him.