Page 11 of Thunder with a Chance of Lovestruck
Henry just looked uncomfortable by the attention.
“You had only just graduated from Case Western when you found yourself taking on the role of father to your sister. So, while you may not have actually fathered me, you’ve been like one to me for years now. Heck, even before Dad passed, you were like one—when he was sick,” I said. “Your heart is huge, Henry.”
“It’s not,” he protested.
“It is. You raised a daughter who wasn’t yours,” I reminded. “I mean, sure, I came potty-trained and all that, but still.”
He lowered his gaze, and a small snort came from him. “You’re how I knew.”
“How you knew what?” I asked.
“That I could be a father to Astria,” he returned.
I tipped my head, my hands still on his shoulders and his still on mine. “Of course, you could. Was that a worry when you found out Amice was expecting? I mean, I know you two were only barely dating when you phoned to tell me she was with child, but I don’t see how that could make you question your ability to be a good father.”
Amice let out a small choked sob and looked away.
I stared between them. “What’s going on?”
“Henry isn’t—”
My brother cut her off and put his forehead to mine, smiling as he did. “Isn’t sure he can handle going through the hormonal teenage girl years again.”
I laughed. “Astria will be better than I was. I gave you hell.”
“Still do,” he returned with a wink.
I went to my tiptoes and hugged him. “I love you. Thank you for everything.”
“I love you too,” he said with a small laugh. “And, Rachael, you did burn the tube top, right?”
I laughed harder. “Nope. I was going to wear it tonight, but went with this shirt instead.”
He curled his lip slightly at the sight of my T-shirt choice. “Oh. Good.”
“Brother, I love you, but there are times you sound like you’re an old man,” I said.
He cracked a smile. “There are days I feel like one.”
“I’m going to check on Astria,” I said. “Try to be a help to your wife right now, not a hindrance. Also, do us all a favor and have a drink. It might help you loosen up some.”
He grunted but nodded. “What can I do to make our jailor’s visit better, wife?”
With a groan, Amice pointed him toward the kitchen. “Go in there and wash your hands, for a start. You spent most of the day downstairs helping Nile before he left. I don’t even want to know what you and your uncle were doing down in that basement. I swear you two spend hours and hours down there.”
“Mmm, I’ll wash my hands, my love, but you should know all the places I want to put them on,” said my brother, making me gag.
I left before I heard anything else.
ChapterFive
Drest
Drest satin the driver’s seat of his red 1963 Ford Falcon Futura in the driveway of the Frankenstein Manor, debating on turning around and heading back to the city. He loathed his monthly check-ins with the Frankenstein family—at least with Henry and Nile. The two males hated anything and everything to do with the Nightshade Clan and the sanctions that were in place against them. They weren’t shy about making their thoughts known on the matter either. They seemed to find great joy in being as difficult as possible.
Each check-in, Drest was met with hostility, snippy comments, and glares. If it wasn’t for Henry’s wife, Amice, and her amazing home-cooked food, Drest would have strongly considered fudging his paperwork to make it look as if he’d done his duty as a Hunter. But someone from the Nightshade Clan would inevitably figure it out, report to Gil, and he’d get assigned an even more difficult group as charges.
No, thank you. He didn’t even want to hazard a guess at who or what would count as harder to handle than Nile and Henry Frankenstein. It was better he just suck it up and go to the dinner.
