I squeeze my eyes shut. “What if I have a freak out moment?”
“They will understand. They’ve seen me at my worst, and it wasn’t pretty.”
I lift my head to look up at him, eyes narrowed like I can get a read on the darkest parts of his soul. “Angry?”
“Violent. And distant. I spent most of my twenties lost in my head.”
I cup his face in my hands and kiss him. “Are they expecting me?”
“They’re not even expecting me.” Cain chuckles nervously and runs a hand through his dark locks. “We don’t have to do this. Say the word and we go home instead.”
His sudden discomfort has me popping up off the bench. I yank at his hand like I’m capable of moving his giant body. “Let’s get this show on the road. I still want sex later.”
“Christ, Ezra.” Cain shakes his head with another laugh.
I’m not sure what I expected from Cain’s parents, but running a commercial dairy farm outside the city wasn’t in the realm of possibilities I’d conjured up.
Cain drives us down the mile-long gravel road, parking the Benz next to a sprawling craftsman home with a wrap-around porch. Isaac’s sitting on the railing, chatting with a large man dressed in dark jeans and a red flannel shirt.
My stomach churns with nerves when their attention shifts to us as we climb out of the car.
“Ezra, you are a saint,” Isaac says, giving us a wide smile. He’s got on a slouchy hat that paints his dark locks to his forehead.
His physical similarities to Cain unnerved me the first time I met him, though he’s a bit less put together, and he doesn’t hold the same intimidating air as Cain. When Cain’s present, everyone and everything revolves around him, caught in his gravity.
I fumble for a response, but I’m saved by Cain’s father rushing off the porch. “Don’t believe my eyes.”
Cain meets him halfway with an extended hand, but his father clasps him into a tight hug, slapping at his back. “I’ve missed you, son. Your mother is going to be so happy. Lydia! Lydia, get out here right now!”
Indistinguishable yelling comes from behind the screened front door, revealing the cozy interior of the home. Pretty sure every fixture is on, spilling golden light out to push back the night.
I wait for the panic to hit me. I know I don’t belong here. I belong on the other side of the river. I belong in ragged, stolen clothes. I belong in shelters and alleyways. My upbringing included four cement walls and a man who never shared his name, even after years of him owning me.
But there’s no time to overthink and spiral out when Cain’s father moves in front of me. He looks so much like Cain, too, that I can’t help but relax. Or should I say, this is what Cain will look like in a couple of decades—tall, burly, salt-and-peppered, and handsome as all hell.
“Hello,” I greet, accepting his handshake. “I’m Ezra.”
Cain’s father beams at me. “Nice to meet you, Ezra. I’m Will. Thank you for bringing my son home.”
“Hey, I’m the one that planted the seed, okay?” Isaac complains.
The screen door bursts open, and a pretty woman with a plait of black hair leaps off the porch into Cain’s awaiting arms with a heart-wrenching sob. “Don’t you ever stay away from us that long again, you hear me? You know I can’t handle the city. I’m sure that’s why you holed up in the center of it,” she scolds, tears streaming down her cheeks.
When Cain lowers her onto her heeled boots, she takes his face in her hands. “You look good, son. Real good.”
“Yeah, I’m good. Ma, this is Ezra.” He nods to me, and I’m swept up in a hug before anyone can warn her that I might lose my shit.
Only I don’t. Because this touch is only meant to comfort. Her strong arms hold me together, and I can’t help but wrap my own arms around her and nuzzle my head into her neck. She’s the same size as me. I think the only one who missed out on the giant genes is Alaric, who seems to be missing from this reunion.
“This is nice,” I murmur, and everyone chuckles.
“Lydia’s a good hugger,” Will says.
God, I really hope I don’t find a way to fuck things up tonight. Part of me still wants to run away. Why would Cain bring me here with the threat of Gabriel’s gunmen tailing me?
“You two hungry?” Will asks. “I made extra pork chops, and your ma made apple pie. She likes to test my willpower when I’m on a diet.” He pats his flat stomach.
My mouth waters. “I’m starved.”
