Page 21

I push the lump in my throat down, willing my nerves to chill the fuck out.

This is the first time I’ve ever brought a girl home to meet my parents. And her boyfriend.

Does that make Silas my boyfriend too?

It does, right?

But we don’t?—

The doorbell chimes, cutting off my train of thought, and I jolt so hard I nearly fall off the barstool. My heart plummets straight to my stomach, the nerves spiking. They’re here. I hear my mom’s slippers shift against the floor, and I leap up, trailing behind her, hoping to reach the door first. But I’m too late. She’s already there, opening it with her signature wide, warm smile aimed at Silas and Sable standing on the doorstep.

“Silas!” she exclaims, pulling him into a big, motherly hug. He hugs her back, looking completely at ease, while I’m standing off to the side, feeling anything but. Sable meets my eyes, and in that split-second, I can see the same nervous energy mirrored in her expression.

“Hi, Mrs. Reynolds. Hope you don’t mind us crashing for the weekend,” Silas says smoothly.

“Oh, please. With all the other kids busy being teenagers, the house has been too quiet. I could use some excitement around here,” my mom replies, ushering both of them inside. She turns to Sable, her gaze soft and curious. “And who is this lovely young lady?”

Sable steps forward, holding out her hand politely. “I’m Sable. Sable Wilson.”

But my mom barely glances at Sable’s hand before ignoring it entirely and sweeping her into a hug instead. Sable lets out a startled laugh as she returns the hug, clearly not expecting that level of enthusiasm. I catch her eye again and give her a small smile, hoping it reassures her that she’s in good hands—even if my heart is still pounding.

“Well, come inside. No sense standing in the foyer. Uncle Ali’s in the kitchen, cooking something delicious,” my mom says, gesturing for us to follow.

I place my hand on the small of Sable’s back, guiding her as we head toward the kitchen. Her shoulders relax just a little under my touch, and I can feel some of her tension melting away as we move through the house.

My mom steps forward and kisses Uncle Ali on the cheek as he stirs a fragrant pot on the stove. His straight black hair falls in front of his eyes as he glances at her with a playful roll of his eyes, but there’s no mistaking the fondness there.

“Ali loves to cook. When he heard Mala’ was coming home, he immediately went to the store,” my mom teases, glancing at the pot with a curious look.

“Butterfly—” He shoots a death look over her way, though I catch a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, hush. You love your son.”

Back in college, my mom met my dad, Dean, and Allistair, both of whom she fell for—hard. Choosing between them wasn’t an option, not when her heart had already decided it wanted them both. So, she married my dad for legal protection, but she’s loved them equally, completely, for as long as I can remember.

And somehow, in their own way, the three of them have made it work.

I glance over at Sable, wondering what she makes of all this.

She meets my gaze, her lips curving up in a small, soft smile, and I hope she’s beginning to understand how this kind of unconventional love can work.

“I hope you’re both ready to eat. Ali’s been cooking for hours. And, Kai, no escaping this time. You’re helping with the dishes.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mom.”

Silas chuckles beside me, leaning in. “Yeah, Kai’s the dish-washing champ. You know, we don’t actually let him near the stove at the Manor—insurance policy.”

Sable laughs, rolling her eyes as she slips an arm around my waist. “It’s true. Last time he tried to cook, we ended up with… what was it? Charcoal spaghetti?”

I scoff, pretending to be offended.

“Well, I’m going to show Sable where she can put her things down.” My mom beams as she takes Sable’s hand, leading her down the hallway with a reassuring squeeze.

“Silas! Be a doll and grab her bags from the car, would you?”

Silas rolls his eyes, clearly amused, and shakes his head. “Yes, Mrs. Reynolds.”

“Oh, I accidentally left my bag at my mother’s,” I hear Sable say.

“I packed you a second bag. Nearly identical!” I shout back. I knew that seeing her mother would overwhelm her, so I packed a second bag with everything she would need for the weekend. I always have a backup plan.

Silas heads outside, and I walk over to the open beer I abandoned earlier, lifting it to my lips for a much-needed swig. I barely get a sip down before I catch Ali’s sidelong glance.

“I know why you’re here,” he says, his gaze still fixed intently on the pot in front of him as he stirs.

I set the beer down, bracing myself. “Are you going to make this conversation easy, then?”

Ali’s mouth tilts. “Will you stop trying to break into my servers?”

“Will you stop hiding things behind the ‘for insurance purposes’ folder on your desktop?”

He shakes his head. “Should’ve never taught you how to do what I do.”

“Yeah, but we both know I take after you more than Dad.”

He pauses, stirring the pot thoughtfully, then shakes his head with a resigned sigh. “I really can’t say much, Kai.”

I lean against the counter. “They could’ve killed Levi, Ali. You have to understand?—”

“Oh, I understand better than most would. But he’s not my concern. You are.”

“He didn’t kill Victoria, Ali. So why arrest him in front of the entire fraternity?”

“Dramatics? Trying to flush out the real killer, maybe.”

My stomach twists. “So, you think they know who it is?”

“Perhaps,” he says slowly, almost reluctantly. “But remember, the Syndicate would rather let assets do their dirty work than get involved directly.”

“So they make Levi a target?”

But before he can answer, we hear laughter echoing from the hallway. Ali’s posture shifts immediately, the casual indifference slipping back over him like a mask as he picks up a knife and starts chopping herbs. He turns just as Silas enters, his arms full of Sable’s bags, and with a calm, almost welcoming smile, he faces Silas.

“How about us men have a drink in the study tonight?” Ali suggests smoothly. His eyes flick over to Silas. “You up for it, Morgan?”

Silas’s eyebrows shoot up. “Uh… yes, sir. Sounds good.”

“Good man.”