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I’m still not sure if he’s been messing with me about his parents. “Why would your dad want you to come here?”
“Connections.”
“With who?” I frown.
“Enough about me. It’s my turn, Sunshine.”
I twist my lips to the side as I watch him take a sip of his vodka. The man doesn’t even flinch. If I did that, I’m confident I’d turn my stomach inside out.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
I laugh at the turned table, deciding, like him, to go with family. “I’m an only child. Mama had a hard delivery with me, she almost didn’t make it, but thankfully—” I touch my chestwith my fingertips, rubbing. The thought of her not having made it through my birth alive always sparks a pain in my heart. “She had a blood clot in her leg that travelled to her lungs. It was an emergency caesarean after which they immediately operated on her to remove the clot. I might have my details a little wonky,” I admit. “But in the end, everything worked out. I was born six weeks premature.”
His voice is rough as he studies me. “Probably why you’re so small.”
“Psh!” I huff, giving his shoulder a gentle shove. “No way.”
“Youaretiny, Sunshine.”
“I’m average.”
He makes a noise of disbelief that makes me sniff indignantly. “Okay, okay.” I think he’s about to amend his accusations and tell me I’m average when a bark of laughter breaks his restraint. “You’re itty bitty.” Thumb and finger press together in front of his face as he teases, “Teeny tiny. The runt.”
I give him a deadpan look. “You’re asking for it. I’ll have you know I’ve got pipes.”
I shouldn’t have said it. I really shouldn’t, because the man gets red in the face. He’s trying so hard to restrain his laughter, I think it very well might kill him. When he can no longer contain it, he busts a gut.
I roll my eyes and let him gather control of himself as I make a show of ignoring him.
Composure again gathered, I murmur, “Uncle Miguel says I have pipes.”
“Who is Uncle Miguel, and why is he lying to you?”
I huff. “He’s Mama’s brother. He’s also in a biker gang, so you better watch how you tease me.”
A brow raises. “That right?”
I shrug. “I’m pretty sure, but it’s not something we chit chat about at family dinner.”
“Huh.” Kane takes another sip of his vodka. “And your dad?”
“He’s the oldest of three sisters.” My voice gets soft. “I’m actually named after his youngest sister. Her name wasactuallyHeaven. She passed away before I was born.”
Her brows draw together. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Well, it’s not, but it happened a long, long time ago.” I pull in breath. “She was three. She was riding her bike across the road when someone hit her. They didn’t even stop, and she passed away a few hours later in the emergency room. Dad always said they named her Heaven because they knew somehow that she’d be called home too soon—that Heaven missed an angel just too much. After the trauma of my birth, Dad named me Nevaeh. He couldn’t bring himself to name me Heaven, but he likes to say I’m a miracle from Heaven—both Heaven’s. That maybe she had a hand in saving us from wherever she is up there.”
When I finish my story, Kane is looking at me like I dropped from the sky. His words nearly shatter me, break me open so he can invade.I almost wish he would.“You are a miracle, Nevaeh. And you’re so fucking beautiful sometimes, it hurts.”
sixteen
Kane
I fly out of bed, her scream like fire under my ass, ice carving the lines of my bones as I run from my room to hers. Like I do every night when she screams, I burst through the door, and hurry to the side of the bed. Like every night, she keeps screaming—keeps thrashing as though she’s fighting demons—until I slide my palm under the little tank she sleeps in, pressing my skin against the flesh of her belly, grounding her.
“I’m here,” I whisper, knowing that even though she doesn’t know I’m here and isn’t conscious to hear me, that my words calm her.I calm her.
