explained that I’d only just discovered my “heritage” three weeks ago. Logan’s youngest, Colin, had promptly commented, “It’s fucked up, right?” only to be smacked lovingly in the head by his barrel-chested father.
“You’ll have to excuse my son,” Logan said, his eyes rolled heavenward. “Nothing, not even the vampires, could curb that kid’s tongue.”
Colin stuck the said appendage out at his father, only to be snatched around the neck in a headlock by William—or maybe he’d introduced that son as Douglas—and they both disappeared back into the room. I shook my head at the chaos.
Theresa, watching from her doorway across the hall, laughed. Despite her youthful appearance, she laughed like a cackling witch.
“Those boys will be the death of you, Logan!” she shouted between cackles.
“Care to babysit?”
Theresa raised her hands in mock surrender, backed into her room, and slammed the door. I could still hear her grating cackles through the wall.
Logan had black hair and was a mountain of a man, built of pure muscle and spit, but all four of his sons were gangly redheads. I wondered about their mother, presumably the mass contributor to the boys’ genes, but it seemed like everyone in the house had at least one missing loved one and a past filled with blood and sadness. Everyone was here because they’d survived their siblings and spouses. They’d survived their parents.
Ronnie knocked on the last door on the second floor, but no one answered.
“Jeremy?” She knocked again. “It’s Ronnie. We have a guest staying with us if you’d like to make her acquaintance.”
She waited a moment, but her knock was only answered by silence.
“He’s our newest tenant,” Ronnie whispered to me. “He doesn’t socialize much, but that’s how Keagan was, Logan’s oldest son. Eventually, he came around. Jeremy is about Keagan’s age, maybe a little younger. He’ll come around, too.”
“I can hear you talking about me,” Jeremy said through the door.
“If you’d open the door and talk to her yourself, I wouldn’t have to,” Ronnie said.
Silence.
Ronnie met my eyes and shrugged. “You’ll have plenty of time to get aquainted. Your guest room is right here, across the hall from Jeremy’s. I know you dropped your luggage off in a rush earlier today, but please, make yourself at home.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Ronnie. I appreciate that.”
We turned away to walk back down the hall when I heard the lock unlatch.
The door opened, and my breath caught.
Jeremy was my height, made a little shorter as he leaned bare-chested against the doorframe. He crossed his arms and pinned Ronnie and me with a hot stare, daring us to comment on the four rows of stitches across his abdomen. They were tiny, neat stitches, and the cuts looked clean, albeit fresh. From his mop of shaggy brown hair to his ripped skinny jeans, he looked about sixteen with a sixty-pound chip on his shoulder. But who was I to judge? I was thirty with a three-hundred-pound chip on mine; I’d just gained the maturity to hide it better.
“Jeremy,” Ronnie said, her voice squeaky with false cheer. “Thank you for opening your door.”
Jeremy raised his eyebrows.
Ronnie ignored his wound and continued her introductions. “Jeremy McFerson, I’d like you to meet Cassidy DiRocco. Cassidy is a reporter for The Sun Accord in New York City and a good friend of Ian.” She turned to me. “Jeremy just moved in last week.”
My stomach turned at the sight of Jeremy’s wounds, but I followed Ronnie’s lead and held out my hand.
He didn’t uncross his arms. “You’re from the city?”
“That’s right.”
“What made you leave for this Godforsaken place?”
I grinned. “A combination of work, Walker’s insistence, and my own curiosity. And for the record, the city’s no better,” I lied. I wiggled my fingers, trying one more time for the handshake. “You can call me DiRocco. Everybody does.”
Jeremy looked
“You’ll have to excuse my son,” Logan said, his eyes rolled heavenward. “Nothing, not even the vampires, could curb that kid’s tongue.”
Colin stuck the said appendage out at his father, only to be snatched around the neck in a headlock by William—or maybe he’d introduced that son as Douglas—and they both disappeared back into the room. I shook my head at the chaos.
Theresa, watching from her doorway across the hall, laughed. Despite her youthful appearance, she laughed like a cackling witch.
“Those boys will be the death of you, Logan!” she shouted between cackles.
“Care to babysit?”
Theresa raised her hands in mock surrender, backed into her room, and slammed the door. I could still hear her grating cackles through the wall.
Logan had black hair and was a mountain of a man, built of pure muscle and spit, but all four of his sons were gangly redheads. I wondered about their mother, presumably the mass contributor to the boys’ genes, but it seemed like everyone in the house had at least one missing loved one and a past filled with blood and sadness. Everyone was here because they’d survived their siblings and spouses. They’d survived their parents.
Ronnie knocked on the last door on the second floor, but no one answered.
“Jeremy?” She knocked again. “It’s Ronnie. We have a guest staying with us if you’d like to make her acquaintance.”
She waited a moment, but her knock was only answered by silence.
“He’s our newest tenant,” Ronnie whispered to me. “He doesn’t socialize much, but that’s how Keagan was, Logan’s oldest son. Eventually, he came around. Jeremy is about Keagan’s age, maybe a little younger. He’ll come around, too.”
“I can hear you talking about me,” Jeremy said through the door.
“If you’d open the door and talk to her yourself, I wouldn’t have to,” Ronnie said.
Silence.
Ronnie met my eyes and shrugged. “You’ll have plenty of time to get aquainted. Your guest room is right here, across the hall from Jeremy’s. I know you dropped your luggage off in a rush earlier today, but please, make yourself at home.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Ronnie. I appreciate that.”
We turned away to walk back down the hall when I heard the lock unlatch.
The door opened, and my breath caught.
Jeremy was my height, made a little shorter as he leaned bare-chested against the doorframe. He crossed his arms and pinned Ronnie and me with a hot stare, daring us to comment on the four rows of stitches across his abdomen. They were tiny, neat stitches, and the cuts looked clean, albeit fresh. From his mop of shaggy brown hair to his ripped skinny jeans, he looked about sixteen with a sixty-pound chip on his shoulder. But who was I to judge? I was thirty with a three-hundred-pound chip on mine; I’d just gained the maturity to hide it better.
“Jeremy,” Ronnie said, her voice squeaky with false cheer. “Thank you for opening your door.”
Jeremy raised his eyebrows.
Ronnie ignored his wound and continued her introductions. “Jeremy McFerson, I’d like you to meet Cassidy DiRocco. Cassidy is a reporter for The Sun Accord in New York City and a good friend of Ian.” She turned to me. “Jeremy just moved in last week.”
My stomach turned at the sight of Jeremy’s wounds, but I followed Ronnie’s lead and held out my hand.
He didn’t uncross his arms. “You’re from the city?”
“That’s right.”
“What made you leave for this Godforsaken place?”
I grinned. “A combination of work, Walker’s insistence, and my own curiosity. And for the record, the city’s no better,” I lied. I wiggled my fingers, trying one more time for the handshake. “You can call me DiRocco. Everybody does.”
Jeremy looked
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