“Yes.”
“Did he give you the key?” Laila asked.
“He said he’d put it somewhere and couldn’t remember where. I’m going back in four days.”
“Mor, be careful that this isn’t a trick,” Lars warned. I chuckled and reached out and ran my knuckles over his cheek.
“Honey, Magic isn’t a part of my life, nor will he be. It’s been a damn long time. You and the others are my future for now.”
“Mor,you’re young enough to have a relationship,” Laila said, wrinkling her nose.
“Shut up!” Lars snapped, looking appalled. “That’s our mom!”
“And Mom’s only thirty-eight. She can even have more kids,” Laila declared. Lars turned green.
“She’s our mom!” he hissed. Laila grinned, and I guessed she was getting payback on Lars for an unspecified reason.
“Look, we’ll get the key, and that’s all we have to do with Magic unless you want to meet him. Magic is your sperm donor,” I said. It was something Vulcan, and I had never hidden from the children. Lars and Laila understood they weren’t biologically Vulcans, but they knew Vulcan had claimed and treated them as his own. As far as they were concerned, Vulcan was their dad.
“Why would we?” Laila asked curiously.
“Magic is your donor; you might want to know something about him.”
“Magic’s an asshole who didn’t want you or us!” Lars exclaimed.
“What are you talking about?” I demanded, shocked.
“We heard you andFarone night. You were discussing the past and how happy you were together.Farasked if you had regrets, and you replied, ‘None.’Farwondered how Magic could have turned his back on us, but you didn’t seem bothered,” Lars explained.
“I’m not. Your dad and I had a wonderful life, and I’d not ever change a thing. Never. I’m a better person for knowing Vulcan and your grandparents,” I stated and meant every word.
“You miss them,” Laila murmured, grief on her face.
“Damn right I do. And Aunt Aster and Uncle Kanon.”
“We went from a big family to nobody. Just us, did we do something wrong?” Laila asked.
“Oh no, sweetheart, definitely not. Life is a bitch, like karma. When people enjoy life too much, life fucks them over. We’ve got each other. And whatever else is thrown at us, we’ll beat,” I promised.
“Okay. Are Oskar and I still grounded?” Lars inquired innocently.
“Nice try, kid,” I praised Lar’s effort. “Yeah, you are!”
“Damn it!” Lars exclaimed and laughed as I hugged him.
Magic
This was for a safety security box, I guessed, as I held the key. Why had Shirley sent this to me? It made no sense. I could go to the bank and ask if they’d let me open it, but whatever was in it wasn’t mine. Plus, I needed to see my sons with a burning passion, and this gave me an excuse. That’s why, before I even realised it, I was on the back of my Hog and riding out. There was one place Jody might go, and it wouldn’t be her parents, brother, or sister.
Crook House. The old Gothic-style house that sat alone on acres of land. It had belonged to Jody’s ancestors for three hundred years and was certainly a work of art, in a very stalker-knife-happy-killer fashion. Shirley had always planned to bequeath it to Jody. The original builder, a woman named Noami, had tied the property up so only a daughter of the family line could inherit. Noami had been tired of womenfolk getting nothing and the men sitting pretty.
The deed was left open for the owner to leave the estate to whomever they wanted. But with those two conditions. One, they had to share the family bloodline, and two, it had to be inherited by a female. It was their choice who it passed to, other than that. Shirley had received Crook House from her mother, and I knew that Jody’s dad had tried to break the trust. He’d failed spectacularly.
It made sense for Jody to be in that rambling mansion. With its odd little turrets and wings, and in some cases, staircases leading to nowhere. It was like a miniature Winchester House—but spooky as fuck and with a heavily gothic presence. From what I remembered, it was three stories high and had at least thirty rooms at the last count. The pointed witch tower came into view as I rode up a hill, and then Crook House appeared below.
There were definite signs of life. Even as I headed towards it, I could see a figure cleaning Shirley’s beloved Thunderbird at the front. From this angle, some of the fenced-in backyard was visible, and clothes fluttered in the wind as two other figures hung them out. One was Jody; I’d recognise her anywhere. The other was a smaller boy. So, Jody had other kids. Made sense; she’d been married. But the thought of Jody carrying another man’s baby kicked me in the gut. I hated the idea.
Jody headed inside without seeing me or hearing the Hog. I slowed down and prepared myself. As I’d drawn closer, it was obvious the kid outside was a teenager, and he appeared to be the right age for one of my sons. My heart was thumping, and my hands were sweaty on my handles.
