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Darien exhaled through his mouth.
Last night was real. It wasn’t a dream.
The relief that flooded his body was so intense, he nearly passed out right there, where he leaned against the doorjamb, listening to the sound of Loren’s sweet, bubbly voice. She was speaking to Bandit—about his rubber chicken, by the sounds of it. He was asking her to throw it. Demanding was more like it, the little shit.
Darien went to his duffel and dug around inside until he found some clean clothes and his leather bag of toiletries.
As soon as he was done getting ready for the day—well, almost, his hair still messy, his face in need of a shave—he went downstairs.
She might not be able to remember him, but he couldn’t fucking wait to see her.
“If you want me to throw it,” Loren said, gripping the rubber chicken by its neck while Bandit held onto it by its soft belly, his sharp teeth making it squeal, “you have to let go.” She was still in her spot at the kitchen table, the others feasting on blueberry waffles all around her, the house fragrant with butter and coffee. She was so full, she could burst.
Promise you’ll throw it, Bandit said from where he stood under the table between her knees, his misty voice audible to everyone in the room. He tugged on the rubber chicken again, the top of his head bumping the table. A bottle of syrup tipped over, and Tanner leaned across the table to pick it up.
Loren held on tight. “Have I ever lied to you before?” She seriously wondered if she had. Wondered how many times she’d interacted with this sassy Familiar and his prized rubber chicken—the toy he’d named ‘Cluckles’.
Bandit’s red eyes shifted from side to side as he considered her question.
And then he let go of the toy, drool stringing out of his chops.
“Ready?” She prepared to throw…
Bandit took off, squeezing between her chair and Paxton’s and nearly knocking the kid over.
“Hey!” Paxton exclaimed, righting himself. The lanky puppy Familiar that was curled up in his lap whimpered.
Bandit bounded across the kitchen, his steps so heavy he shook the house.
Loren threw the rubber chicken, aiming for the living room—
And hit Darien in the side of the face with it as he walked in.
She shot to her feet. “I am so sorry!”
Darien caught the chicken before it could fall.
You ruined it! Bandit exclaimed, his nails scrabbling on the floor as he screeched to a stop. You ruined our play time! You ruin everything!
“Everything?” Darien drawled, the question coated with amusement. His night-dark hair was all messy, a few of the strands hanging in his face. He lifted the chicken. “Who bought you this thing?”
Bandit barked and jumped, trying to grab the chicken Darien held out of his reach. Bark! Throw it! Bark! Throw it, damn you!
“You want me to throw it?”
Bark! Bark! Quit teasing! Bark! Throw it!
Darien crossed the living room. Opened the door to the deck, cold breeze blowing in. Wound his arm back. Threw—
And cursed when he realized he’d thrown too hard.
Loren watched out the window as the chicken soared threw the air—and hit the wall of spells protecting the property with a pop and a sizzle.
You scalded it! Bandit cried. The dog thundered across the deck and down the stairs that led into the yard.
Jack and Kylar were trying not to laugh.
“You really don’t like that chicken, do you?” Tanner said.
