Page 150 of The Donor’s Dilemma

“What’ll you have to drink, Theo?” he asked, then visibly cringed at his own question, as if he’d half-expected him to ask for a cup of blood.

“I wouldn’t mind a drop of wine, if you’ve got it,” Theo said, and Brian’s shoulders dropped half an inch. Verity wondered if Theo had caught the scent of wine from the kitchen the moment the door opened.

“Come on in, then,” Brian said, ushering them through.

The smell of dinner and the murmur of her mum’s radio settled over Verity, familiar and safe. They sat, and no sooner had Theo been handed his glass than Brian started the questions: how safe Cliffhaven actually was, whether they’d be visiting, how long they expected to be gone, when they’d be back. Theo answered as honestly as he could, glancing to Verity every time he gave an answer that didn’t sound great. Which was most answers.

“Truthfully, there’s a lot we don’t know yet,” he said. “It’s been a long time since those people had any real governance, or policing, or felt safe at all. It might take a while before they trust us again.”

Brian nodded slowly, his expression grave. It wasn’t the answer he’d hoped for, but Verity knew he’d take honesty over comfort every time.

She reached for Theo’s hand under the table and squeezed it. “We’ll figure it out,” she said, with a smile.

Debbie fussed over the meal as they ate, insisting they never usually had visitors and hoping everything was up to standard, addressing Theo as “sir” more than once even after he gently asked her not to.

When Debbie reached to clear a plate, something dropped to the floor with a small thud, a fork, Verity assumed, already bending to retrieve it before she registered what it actually was.

Theo’s coin.

He snatched it up before she could, pocketing it quickly, looking faintly embarrassed at being caught fidgeting with it beneath the table. Verity smiled. He’d stood his ground in front of Petra fucking Rose without flinching, and yet here he was, needing the coin in his fist just to face her parents.