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Sabrina likewise sweeps her eyes across my family. I’m pleased to see that she’s robbed of a fraction of her usual cheek, enough that she introduces herself politely to my parents and gives Kade a surprisingly civil, “Good to see you again.”
When her eyes meet mine, she says nothing at all. Her face reddens and her chest rises and falls a little too quickly beneath the flannel shirt.
I’m wondering if she’s afflicted with the same thickness in her throat and the same pounding heart that seems to have attacked me without warning. Everything is quiet on the outside, while inside is chaos and confusion.
“Hello, Sabrina.”
“Hello, Adrik.”
That low voice operates on me like Pavlov’s bell. I’m sweating, salivating, and a host of other reactions that I’d rather not experience with my mother two feet away from me.
What the fuck is happening?
You’d think I was sixteen again.
You’d think I’d never seen a woman before.
“Did you have a good flight?” Nix pipes up, her voice high and strained.
If anyone is more uncomfortable than me in this moment, it’s Nix Moroz. Her father was the one who imprisoned Ivan. While Ivan and Sloane have obviously forgiven her, she’s not as certain of her reception with the rest of us.
I couldn’t give two shits who she’s related to.
If Ivan doesn’t mind his son sleeping with the enemy, far be it from me to raise a fuss about it. What better revenge for Rafe than to cut Marko’s throat and steal his daughter? Sounds like justice to me.
Apparently my mother feels the same, because she immediately replies, “It was lovely, thank you. Are you Nix? I’ve heard so much about you from Kade!”
My mother is kindhearted. In this instance she probably feels especially charitable—her own father was a sadistic piece of shit who threw her mother out a window. So she knows a little something about family drama.
“She hasn’t heard ‘so much’ about you,” Kade assures Nix. “Just a normal amount. Sabrina, on the other hand …”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sabrina says, coloring.
“He’s only teasing,” my mother says, putting her arms companionably around both girls’ waists. “We’re indebted to you both for the assistance you gave our family.”
“I don’t know about that.” Nix winces.
“We’re all here now,” my mother says firmly. “That’s what matters.”
She heads inside the house with Nix and Sabrina, my father following along behind her at a slower pace, burdened by several suitcases.
“I’ll take those.” I heft the two largest. “You help, too, you lazy shit,” I say to Kade.
“I’ve got ‘em,” Rafe says, taking the other two suitcases.
He’s lingering behind on purpose.
Sure enough, as soon as my father and Kade are a few steps ahead, he shoots me a sly look and mutters, “How was Dubrovnik?”
Not knowing what Sabrina told them, I respond with “Sunny.”
Rafe snorts. “Alright. Keep your secrets.”
“Don’t quote that fucking movie at me.”
Since we were kids, Rafe has honed in with unerring precision on the most irritating lines from every film we’ve watched together, then deployed them relentlessly.
“What movie?” he says innocently.
