She passes plates of our favourite salted caramel and vanilla ice cream waffles toward us before giving us both a giant mug of hot chocolate with all the trimmings.
It’s more sugar than I should probably eat in a month, but fuck it.
Grabbing my spoon, I dive in as Cruz thanks Lacey, making her giggle like a schoolgirl.
“I can’t wait for a woman to knock you on your arse, old man,” I mutter around a mouthful of waffle once she’s out of earshot.
“One, I’m not old.” I raise a brow at him. “We can’t all be seventeen, brat. And two, no woman is knocking me anywhere. Love is for dreamers.”
“Dad’s a dreamer?”
“Hell yeah. He spent almost all his adult life dreaming about a girl he thought was dead.”
“Love sick fool,” I say with a laugh.
“See. You get me.”
“I do. Let the fun times roll, eh?”
He stares at me, his lips parting to say something before he changes his mind.
“Spit it out, old man.”
Narrowing his eyes, he leans forward and whispers, “You better not be having more fun than me, kid.”
Sitting back, I smile innocently. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” He scoffs. “You know the reputation of the school I go to.”
“Too fucking right. I know the boys who run it, too.”
Thankfully, I manage to turn the conversation away from school and anything related to the name Cirillo and spend a couple of hours chatting about bullshit with my uncle before heading home with my new piece of jewellery safely zipped inside my bag.
I already know that Dad’s going to blow his top when he finds out I’ve been hanging out with Cruz, let alone spending time at the compound with Pops. But finding this, what is effectively my lifetime pass to the Reapers, will tip him right over the fucking edge.