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“Zoey! You’re early! I thought you’d be up in the Hamptons for another week. Why haven’t you called? Oh my god! You cut your hair. It looks so cute on you. I missed you so much,” she rambles, embracing me tighter as I suck in her calming scent.
“I missed you too.”
Pulling away, she smiles as she looks me over. “Something seems different about you, and I don’t mean the new punk rock hairdo.” She cocks her head. “Are you okay?”
Forcing a smile, I nod. “I’m good.” To distract her, I look over at Alaric with a teasing smirk. “What? No hug?”
Huffing, he wraps us both up in his huge arms, making us laugh while his eyes stay rooted on mine. The fine hair on the back of my neck stands on end as his scrutinizing gaze takes stock of me, noticing everything I’m trying damn hard to keep hidden. With a small grin still plastered on my lips, I look away from his gaze, praying that I haven’t given anything away. Completely oblivious, Layla breaks free from our embrace and hurries to the pot that’s boiling over. Unfortunately for me, this gives my dad the perfect opportunity to step closer to me and get answers to whatever questions he has in his mind.
“Tell me, kid,” he demands.
“Nothing.” I lean up and kiss his cheek. “Now, where’s my favorite niece and nephew?”
“Sophie is at a sleepover next door, and Gage is at his gramps for the night.” He huffs, clearly hating the latter more. “Pops insisted on a boys’ day. I just hope he’s not showing him how to shoot or something.”
“He better not be!” Layla calls out, making us both laugh.
“Missed you, kid, now come on. Let’s get the table ready and eat.”
I follow after him, knowing he’s watching me carefully and spotting too much. After all, I feel raw.
Raw from that home.
Raw from Gray.
Raw from the man we killed.
Do I look different?
I feel different, and that’s when I realize the outfit I’m wearing isn’t a normal flowery dress. Instead, I’m in tight black jeans, boots, and a crop top.
My outfit is somewhere between my usual and the costume I wear for their sakes.
It dawns on me that all it took was one week with Gray for my two worlds to start to blend together, and the sensation feels like I’m adrift at sea, unsure of which safe port I should be swimming toward.
* * *
I’m cutting my meat, listening to a story Layla is telling us about Gage, when the front door opens and slams shut. We all jump, turning to look. Alaric is on his feet in an instant, standing before the table with a gun behind his back.
Footsteps draw closer, but I can’t see around Alaric as the person stops at the doorway to the dining room. Alaric doesn’t relax, however, and if anything, he tenses more, his finger going to the trigger.
I crane my neck around, and my mouth drops open when I see Gray leaning casually in the doorway, grinning at us all like he was not only invited but welcome.
My heart flips like crazy, and I can’t stop the smile that blooms. He throws me a knowing, heated look before stepping into the room, completely unbothered about a bristling Alaric.
“Sorry I’m late.” Gray winks at me. “What’s for dinner?”
“You have five seconds to get the fuck out,” Alaric demands, his voice ice cold.
Gray, completely unaffected, leans around him to wave at Layla, making me bite my lip to stop my giggle.
“Four,” Alaric warns, stepping to the left to block his view. “And if you ever come to my family house again, I will not hesitate to kill you.”
Shit, this could get bad fast. I’m about to stand when Layla’s hand covers mine on the table. I shoot her a confused look, and she smiles softly at me. She searches my gaze, and I don’t know what she sees there, but she nods as if she found an answer to something and clears her throat.
Layla looks at me before smiling. “Alaric, didn’t I mention I invited Gray? How silly of me. It must have slipped my mind. Please, come and take a seat.”
She’s lying to her husband for me.
