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Ciaran shakes his head as he watches us on the phone saying, “What do you do when you don’t have the answers?”

“I table the conversation or explain that not everything will have an immediate response,” I explain, yawning. “Ugh, sorry.”

“You’re fine. What did Zayn mean by you’ll be better tomorrow? No offense, but that was very Children of the Corn of him and freaked me out.”

“Oh my god,” I laugh. He watches as if he’s a drowning man, and he needs me to survive. “I have an infusion that’ll help even me out tomorrow. I don’t get them as often as I used to, but I’ve been really busy today. My entire body feels like it’s failing. I’m fine, just Potsy.”

“That’s a term that means your symptoms are…flaring?” he asks tentatively.

“Correct.”

“I don’t know why hearing and seeing you like this scares the shit out of me,” he admits.

“Why do you think I ran home?” Arran asks, laying me on the couch. “I’m going to get your water, refill and doctor it, and bring it back to you. What do you want for dinner? I will order whatever groceries we need.”

“I want something salty,” I mumble, thinking.

“I am open to making several dinners,” Arran adds. “I do not fucking care, baby.”

“Language,” Ciaran grunts.

“He hears so much worse in several languages,” Arran informs him.

“I want a bacon, tomato, cheese sandwich, but with a salty cheese,” I confess, looking up at Arran with desperate eyes.

“Got it. You’re easy, baby girl. No sweat. Let me ask Zayn what he wants for dinner.”

“The way he loves you is really special to watch,” Ciaran says once Arran is gone. “I’ll text him to coordinate a date. It may overlap while I’m there to teach Zayn.”

“Not a problem,” I say, snuggling down to take a nap. Dinner will take a while anyway.

“I just want to tell you that you're a really incredible mom. I don’t think I was ever speaking the way he does.”

“It’s because he’s around grown ups all the time,” I admit. “He’s picked up a lot of Spanish, as have I. He sees a lot that he takes in stride. The multiple moms, dads, none of that fazes him.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” Ciaran looks as if he’s just had a lightbulb moment and I narrow my eyes at him. “Sleep well, Noor.”

The screen goes dark and I find myself having a hard time finding the warm sleepiness from before. In my experience, that kind of sharp intelligence leads to dark places.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

ZAYN

It’s hard for me to control my face when I’m not sure of something, but I’m really trying to be better about it. Grandpa Emil told me a man can’t allow every thought to be projected or he’ll lose the element of surprise. Large men make me uncomfortable unless I know they’re good people, and the ones before me?

Several of Grandma Liliana’s bad words are going through my mind as I look at them. They’re trying hard not to appear dangerous and doing a very bad job of it. I suppose if I saw any of my family in a dark alley, they may give me the same feelings, but I’ve known them my whole life.

Mommy has never steered me wrong, and that’s the only reason I stare each of them in the eye and shake their hands.

The one with dark hair who has his sides shaved squats down beside me, to get on my level. Well, at least he’s trying to do that. His caramel eyes hold an edge of wonder to them I don’t understand before he hides it away.

“I’m Alastair, Zayn. You’ve met Ci, and Draven is the blonde who looks like he didn’t brush his hair,” he says with a grin.

Draven rolls his eyes goodnaturedly, but his hair looks fine to me.

“I like order in my classes,” Alastair continues. “You learn a step that builds off another, you know?”