When she went inside, she saw Denny right off. He was at a table with Grace. When Grace looked up and saw her, her face folded into a smile. “Hey, Princess. Long time, no visits.”

Denny took his shot before he lifted his eyes from the table. “Out without either of the Princes Charming?”

She shrugged. “Girl time. I’m meeting Carla.”

“Grab a cue or a seat.” Grace’s voice had a cigarette-and-whiskey rasp to it that contrasted with her body. She sounded like a woman who should be a lithe singer in a vibrant scarlet dress, breaking hearts and inciting lovers’ quarrels, but Grace was a different sort of trouble. Wearing black boots, faded jeans, and a man’s button-up shirt, she was all muscle and just as able to handle any fights as the men in the room. She took immense pride in the fact that her Softail Custom was outfitted with more chrome and louder pipes than Denny’s.

“You want to shoot teams when Carla gets here?” Denny circled the table to reach his next shot. He’d tied his hair back, but the loose ponytail was already coming undone and falling into his face.

“Only if I get Carla,” Grace said. “Sorry, Ash, but the two of them together would kill us.”

Aislinn cracked a grin. “She already set stakes. Ten a game.”

“So, twenty then, for teams?” Denny cleared two balls in a complicated shot that Carla could explain by way of geometry and simple angles, but which Denny executed as a matter of precision and practice. Aislinn had neither geometry nor sufficient practice.

“Or ten still, even splits.” Grace opened a bottle of water.

“We might break even, if you have Carla,” Denny said. Then he finished clearing the table.

“Or not,” Grace muttered.

He grinned. “Or not.”

Something bluesy kicked up on the jukebox; Aislinn had been there often enough to recognize classic Buddy Guy. Across the hall, murmured conversations rose and fell among the clack of balls. Cries of defeat and victory broke into the familiar hum of Shooters.It’s good to be here. She’d spent too much time with faeries; hanging out with friends was the change she needed.

By the time Carla arrived, Aislinn could almost convince herself that life was as it had been before. Not that before had been perfect, but sometimes it seemed like things had been a lot clearer then. Contemplating eternity, a job she had no idea how to do well, and a relationship that was heading toward uncrossable lines—it wasn’t relaxing.

But Carla was there, Denny and Grace were there, the music was good, and the laughter was easy. The rest of the night was reserved for friends and fun.

“Game,” Carla crowed. She did a little victory shimmy that made Denny look away and Grace smirk.

“Somebody’s keeping a secret,” Aislinn murmured to Denny.

Denny narrowed his eyes. “Leave it alone, Ash.”

Grace and Carla were chatting as Grace racked the balls. Aislinn put her back to the table and kept her voice low. “Age is relative. If you—”

“No, it’s really not. Maybe someday when she’s had a chance to live a little more…but she hasn’t, and I’m not going to steal that chance.” Denny glanced at Carla as he sat back on one of the stools against the wall. “You two have years to enjoy your freedom before you settle down. I’m already at the point of wanting that.”

“So how old is too old?”

He grinned. “Don’t get prickly. Seth’s not too old for you. A year or two isn’t a big deal.”

“But…”

“But I’m almost a decade older. It’s different.” Denny pushed away from the stool. “Are we going to shoot or do each other’s hair now?”

“Jerk.”

He grinned. “Yet another reason you shouldn’t encourage me.”

“Whatever.” She smiled back at him.

As they played, Aislinn thought about Seth—and about Keenan—and she wasn’t sure if she agreed with Denny.Is he right? Is more than a few years too much? Part of her thought he was right. Being with Seth never felt like there was any question of maturity or wisdom or any imbalance. With Keenan she felt like she was constantly stumbling.

She pushed aside her thoughts and concentrated on the game. Carla and Grace made a great team, but Denny was more than their match. They all played for fun; he played for money most weeks.

“Hey, dead weight,” he called, “your shot.”

Carla laughed. “Ash is just trying to help me out, aren’t you?”

“It’s as good an explanation as any for the easy shot you missed earlier….” Denny smiled as he gestured to the table.

She didn’t miss that one, but she missed more than her share over the next few hours. It was the least complicated evening she’d had in a while—no unspoken issues or worrying about every word she said and each move she made. It was exactly what she’d needed.

When she got home later that night, Aislinn wasn’t surprised that Grams was waiting up for her. There might be guards that trailed her these days, and that whole never-let-faeries-know-we-see-them thing was pretty much a moot point now, but Grams still treated her like she was a normal girl.Well, as normal as I ever was. Home was the place where she could be small and afraid. It was where she was chastised for forgetting to add milk to the grocery list if she used the last of it. It was a haven…but that didn’t mean that the rest of the world was left at the door.

Aislinn walked into the living room. Grams sat in her favorite chair; she had a cup of tea in hand. Her long gray hair was still plaited but not up.

The braid was longer than Aislinn could stand her own hair ever being. As a child Aislinn had thought Grams was really Rapunzel. If the faeries were real, why not Rapunzel? They lived in a tall building with windows overlooking a strange world. Grams had let her hair grow even longer back then, and it was ashy blond. Aislinn had asked her, once, about her theory.