Guilt surged through me, but I made my voice light. "Well, feel free to send me the dry-cleaning bill," I said, trying to make a joke.
"Oh, I intend to." His face was dead serious.
I winced. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dragged you into the middle of my fight like that. Next time, maybe we'll have a better guys' night out. Or at least a less violent one."
"Oh, I don't know," he drawled. "You. Me. Out on the street. Facing down some punks and getting the best of them. You were right. It was just like old times - good times."
His face creased into a wide smile, his blue eyes bright with victory. For a moment, it was like the years melted away, and I saw the scrawny kid he had once been, grinning like a fool because he'd managed to steal a couple of apples for him, Eva, and me to eat.
My chest tightened, the sensation even more painful than when Sierra used her stun gun on me. It had been so long since I'd seen him smile like that. It had been so long since he'd looked at me like that, without a trace of anger, hurt, or bitterness marring his features.
Phillip had been my best friend, the person I depended on more than anyone else, but I'd thrown that all away when I'd believed Salina and her lies over him.
Once again, I cursed my own foolishness, and I couldn't get rid of the hollow ache in my chest either. Because as the weeks had passed, and I got more perspective about Salina and all the horrible things that she'd done, I'd realized something else. Salina hadn't just cost me my friendship with Phillip - she'd also stolen my time with him.
Phillip and I had been estranged for years because of her, and Cooper and I hadn't fared much better, at least not after Salina had first left Ashland. I'd missed out on so much with them. Phillip growing up and making a name for himself as the owner of the Delta Queen. Cooper and all of his blacksmith projects. Not to mention Eva and all of the happy, sweet childhood innocence that Salina had taken from her.
It made me sick, thinking about all of those wasted years, all that precious time that I could have spent with people who truly cared about me. But instead, I'd squandered it by wondering where Salina had gone and why.
And now the same thing was happening with Gin.
The days were turning into weeks, and I was still no closer to figuring out how to set things right between the two of us than I had been the night that Salina had died -
"What are you thinking about?" Phillip asked, interrupting my thoughts. "You look so serious all of a sudden."
I stared at him, and once again, I thought of all the quiet moments like this one that I'd lost with him because of Salina and her lies.
And in that second, I vowed that it wasn't going to happen again. Not with Phillip, Cooper, or Eva - and not with Gin either. Salina had already taken so much from me. She wasn't getting anything else. Not one more damn second of my time.
"Owen?"
I made myself smile at him, as though I had nothing important on my mind. "I was just wondering how you're going to make me pay for this later."
"We'll start with a new suit." Phillip grinned again. "Although I'm sure that I can come up with some other acts of contrition that you can complete to atone for your sins. Tell you what. Come by tomorrow for lunch, and I'll tell you what you can do to complete your penance."
If only he knew that was exactly what I was planning on doing. Making it up to him. Making things up to everyone. Cooper, Eva, Gin. I couldn't undo what Salina had done. But I could sure as shooting try my best to let them know how sorry I was for everything that had happened - and how much I loved them.
Especially Gin.
"Owen?" Phillip said. "There you go, looking all serious again."
I gave him the same saucy wink he'd been using on all the women at the club tonight. "It's a date. See you then."
He shook his head. "It's so sad that you have no game. That's something else we'll have to talk about tomorrow. Later."
He gave me a much saucier wink, then straightened up and waved at me before walking up the gangplank and disappearing from view.
I put the car in gear and drove away from the riverboat, thinking about everything that had happened tonight. Talking with Phillip, laughing with him, fighting side-by-side with him. For the first time since we'd reconnected, it felt almost . . . natural. Like we were finally starting to get back to where we'd once been as friends. My lips pulled up into another smile.
Good times, indeed. And I hoped there were many more to come.
* * *
I drove home. Eva was spending the night with Violet Fox, her best friend, so the mansion was dark and quiet when I went inside. I took a long, hot shower to wash Richie's and Sierra's blood off me, then changed into a T-shirt and some jeans, along with a pair of boots and some heavy blue coveralls. I also retrieved the hammers from the trunk and cleaned the blood off them.
Even though it was after two in the morning now, I felt energized - galvanized, even - so I grabbed my hammer and went to my forge.
Two stone walls held up the pointed slate roof, but the other two sides were open so the air could flow inside and fuel the fire. It wasn't as large as Cooper's forge - not even close - but it was mine, my own space for me to do my own work.
I flipped the lights on and got started. It didn't take me long to light the fire, arrange my tools, and select a piece of iron to work with. In fact, I found comfort in the familiar routines, just like Gin did with her cooking.
Once the iron was properly heated, I picked up my hammer and reached for my magic, feeling the cold, hard power rising up out of the pit of my stomach, flowing through my shoulders, down my arms, through my hands, and all the way into my fingertips. The hot iron began to whisper in anticipation of how I might shape it, while the other bits of metal in the forge chimed in, wondering what I was going to do next. I drew in a breath, really focusing in on my magic and gathering up more and more of it. The whispers of the metal intensified; it knew what was coming next. When I had a firm grip on my magic, I slowly channeled it into my hammer, until the silverstone was humming with raw power - just like I was.
Then I brought the hammer down.
I hit the iron time and time again, making sparks erupt and zing through the air like fat red bumblebees before the sticky humidity of the night snuffed them out. I ignored the sparks and focused on the metal, until I could feel each and every bit of the iron, down to the smallest shaving. Then I started whispering back to the metal, not with actual words but instead with my magic, coaxing it, molding it, sculpting it into the exact shape that I wanted.
A couple of hours later, when I was finished, I looked down at the piece I'd created, examining it from every angle. It was good, certainly better than my other attempts to make this particular shape, but I could do better still. I would do better - for Gin.