She pats my back. “Sweetheart, you stink.”
“Sorry,” I say, but I’m not the least bit sorry at all. Blinking back the tears, I step away.
Normally, she’d turn her nose up at me, but it stays firmly in its place. It’s relieving when I haven’t seen or talked to her since the day we brought her home over a month ago. I’ve stopped calling my father, deciding that hearing his insults wouldn’t be healing for any of us.
“Why are you here? Where’s Dad? And who are you?” I question, directing the last one towards the stranger standing next to her.
Now that I’m looking at him, I’m even more confused. Light brown hair, the top messy and unruly, pretty blue eyes, and a killer smile. Almost as killer as his body. He can’t be any older than I am, yet he carries himself with refined confidence—something most men my age don’t possess.
An odd feeling prickles at my senses, though I can’t discern exactly what.
All I know is he’s fucking hot. What the hell is my mother doing with him?
“Kraven,” he answers with a smirk.
“Oh my God, is this your boyfriend?” I ask, eyes wide.
“Adeline Reilly, don’t be inappropriate. Of course, he isn’t. He’s been helping take care of me while I recover. Now let me in, I have ten seconds before I fall at your doorstep and don’t get up again.”
Dramatic as ever, I see.
Kraven smiles, dimples appearing as he grabs my mother’s arm and helps her into the house and toward the red leather couch. Dumbly, I watch them pass by, wondering how the hell she convinced my father to let someone else nurse her back to health. Especially someone who looks like… that.
And that may not be her boyfriend, but with the way her cheeks redden, she’s definitely not unaffected by him. In all honesty, if my mother ended up with a younger man… good for her.
I’d be proud.
Snapping myself out of it, I close the front door and take a seat across from her. Sibby is probably upstairs showering, and Zade is currently tracking down a dark web user who has a knack for torturing children on a live video feed.
When I’m not training with Sibby, I’m working on my new story. I’ve missed writing, and it’s served as an excellent escape now that Claire is finally dead. Pretty soon, I’ll be done with my first book since being home again, and I wholeheartedly believe it’s my best writing to date.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her, glancing at Kraven.
“Irritated,” she huffs. “Your father is driving me nuts.”
I tighten my lips, a stabbing pain in my chest with the reminder of him, but also oddly comforted that she finds him just as ridiculous as I do.
“Does he know you’re here?” I ask.
“Would it change a damn thing if he did?” she retorts. There goes her nose—hiking up in the air with superiority. It brings a smile to my face.
“I tried to see you,” I murmur.
She visibly softens. “I know you did, honey. I was too weak to do much, but I didn’t agree with your father. Regardless of your horrible taste in men, you’re my daughter and always will be.”
I give her a droll look. “Clearly, I’m not the only one with horrible taste in men,” I say pointedly.
She pauses, and then surprises me by chuckling. Now it feels like I’m the one with the gunshot wound. I mean, I’m funny, I know this. But my mother has never thought so.
“I suppose not,” she concedes. “Where is your boyfriend, by the way? I’d like to thank him.”
My brows jump in surprise, and now I wonder if Sibby hit me so hard that it sent me into an alternate universe.
“Don’t you give me that look,” she sasses. “He may be a bad influence, but he saved my life. So did that nice doctor of his.”
“He’s not here right now, but I’ll let him know.”
She nods stiffly, glancing at the ceiling when the floorboards above creak.