Page 79 of Touch Of Fate

“Not happening,” he denies.

“It happens when you least expect it. You just challenged the universe.” Dad smirks.

“How does it feel?” I ask, rescuing Archer.

“Bonding?” Dad asks.

“Yeah.” His face relaxes, and he looks into the dark.

“As if you have been living without the sun until her,” he says softly.

“Jesus, Arthur,” Archer mumbles.

“Now, the se—”

“No. I’m not listening to that.” I move to the door.

“What? You asked.” He laughs, and I shake my head.

“Too much.” Archer slaps him on the back and follows me into the house.

“Why are you running away from your father?” Mom asks as she pours water into some cups.

“Not important.” I walk through the kitchen and into the hallway. The bedroom is silent, and I can feel her steady heartbeat in my body somehow. When I return to the kitchen, Dad is sitting at the small table, and Mom is serving him tea and cookies.

“Lace is a talented baker.” Mom grins at her over her shoulder. “She made these.” She squeezes Dad's arm before moving away.

“It’s nothing,” Lace says.

“Not true. Baking is its own kind of magic.” I was right. They had time to bond. “Your time will come, sweet Lace.” She lowers her head, her cheeks flushed.

“Thanks, Margarete,” she whispers.

“How’s your eye?” I ask, and she looks at me.

“Like it didn’t happen,” she replies.

“I’m sorry, sister.” Her eyes widen, and she smiles.

“When Archer told us he hit you, I had to hold Arthur back,” Mom grumbles.

“You told her?” Lace asks Archer, and he shrugs.

“My boys hate those who are abusive. I’m glad Mara got justice for you.” Mom places a cup in front of me. I sit on a stool, wrapping my hands around the warm tea.

“She always does,” Lace says softly. “She has always been my protector, no matter what the consequences are for her.”

“That’s what family is for,” Mom says. “It says a lot about her.”

“Not much about me.” Lace takes a big bite of the cookie.

“I disagree.” Mom frowns, and Lace lifts her shoulder, playing with the string on her tea bag. “Lace—”

“Mom.” She looks at me. “Where are Aunt and Uncle?” Lace fidgets. It’s not the time for her to interfere.

“They wanted to come, but I convinced them to stay at the hotel,” she says.

“More like you didn’t share the address with them,” Dad mumbles as he takes a drink.