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“That’s Cassian.” Max grins. “He’s a vampire prince.”

So…mydad called the cops.

Apparently, that’s what happens at the end of the three seconds. Now we know.

And it wasn’t exactlythe cops. He called his friend, the chief deputy sheriff. He’s convinced Noah and Cassian are a couple of con artists preying on naïve me.

Apparently, Sheriff Thompson didn’t want to explain everything over the phone because he said he’d head over here. I’m sure his wife is thrilled he was called out just before dinner.

I’ve never met the man, but I have no doubt he’s familiar with NIHA. Apparently, Cassian and Noah feel the same because they’re not as agitated as I would be if I were in their shoes.

While we wait, Dad lectures me in the kitchen. “Piper, I know you think this is real—that’s how these people work. But there is no such thing as vampires.” His face turns red, and he lowers his voice to an angry growl. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

“If they were con artists, would they sit there, waiting for the sheriff to arrive?”

“How should I know what a con artist would do?”

“Dad.” I close my eyes, feeling a migraine coming on. “Let’s sit down until your friend gets here, okay? You want coffee? I’ll make some.”

“I don’t want to use up all those fussy beans you can’t afford,” he says, just being petulant now.

I roll my eyes and turn toward the cupboard, pulling glasses onto the counter. “Fine, you get iced tea.”

“Would you stop pretending this is normal?”

I whirl back around. “Itisnormal. Just not…your normal.”

I’m trying to remember that Max and I were both wrecks when we first learned about all this and give him a little grace. But he’s making itverydifficult.

“What the heck are you doing?” he demands when I pour Cassian’s glass of beef broth.

“Cassian can’t have any plant-based foods, even coffee or tea,” I explain as I move on to the iced tea. “It’s not a vampire thing. He just has an intolerance.”

I swear Dad curses under his breath, but it’s quiet enough I can’t make it out. Probably a good thing.

“Here.” I shove two glasses of iced tea into his hands. “Help me carry these in.”

“I’m not serving con artists.”

“One is yours, and the other is Mom’s,” I snap. “Now, would you please gosit down?”

I expect him to argue, but he just scowls for another few seconds and then shuffles into the living room.

I follow him, giving Cassian his broth and Noah his tea.

“Where’s mine?” Max asks.

“This is your fault,” I tell him while Dad and Mom quietly argue on the couch. “Get your own tea.”

“I’m going to make coffee.”

“Fine.” I watch him go. “Would you make enough for me? Decaf—it’s late.”

He waves back at me. “Yeah, yeah.”

When I attempt to sit next to Noah, Dad’s attention snaps back to me, and he barks, “No. You are not dating him, and you are not sitting by him.”

Then he points to the open spot next to him.