Page 203 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

He looked at the doctor. “Do them.”

The doctor glanced at me, amused.

“Please don’t encourage this,” Rafe said.

“I’m being medically useful.”

He almost smiled, but then his parents arrived.

Rafael Virelli was tall, broad and silver at the temples. His whole presence warmed the air. Next to him was Aoi, Rafe’s mother, holding his arm lightly. She looked too young to be his mother if you didn’t know the truth, lovely and bright-eyed, with dark hair pinned loosely at the nape of her neck. Her gaze moved over Rafe, then landed on me.

“Oh,” she said softly. “You brought the sunshine.”

My throat tightened before I could stop it.

Rafe went still beside me.

Aoi smiled at Max. “And the soldier.”

Max lifted his head.

Rafael’s expression gentled. “Aoi, this is Quinn Bradley. And Max.”

“I know,” she said, delighted. “He has old eyes.”

I stood. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

Aoi took both my hands in hers before I could decide whether to offer one. Her palms were warm and delicate, her eyes clear for that moment in a way that made Rafe’s attention sharpen.

“My son never brings girls home,” she said.

Rafe closed his eyes. “Mother.”

“What? It’s true.”

Rafael coughed into his hand.

I tried very hard not to smile. “He did mention doctors.”

“Doctors.” Aoi waved that away. “Men love a practical excuse for the thing they wanted anyway.”

Rafe looked like he might walk directly into the wall.

I had never adored anyone faster.

“Max wanted to come,” I said.

Aoi looked down at Max, who had risen to greet her with perfect gentleness. She offered her hand for him to sniff. “Of course he did. He knows where people need him.”

Rafe’s face changed.

We stayed for dinner because Rafael insisted, Aoi wanted to sit with “the brave ones,” and Max, after a full medical exam and venison treats from Dimitris’s doggy bag, had developed opinions about leaving before food.

We ate in a smaller dining room that still could have fit my entire apartment twice. Soup, bread, roast chicken, vegetables, tea. Nothing showy. Everything good. Aoi told a story about Rafe as a boy trying to learn to make smoke rings and accidentally singeing a gardener. Rafe denied the details. Rafael corrected him. I listened, trying not to look too hungry for every piece of him I hadn’t known.

Rafe watched me from across the table. Not in a way that made me feel examined, but in a way that made me feel kept, special.

It was everything.