“Micha.”
Now I was really confused. How did my question get her to that conclusion? Did I give something away about her boyfriend’s visit to me? No, I didn’t think so. Then again, I did inadvertently give information to Mason, so…
“Micha didn’t do anything.”
Riley’s eyes narrowed. “Uh huh?”
“Really.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound as high pitched and squeaky as I thought it did. “I haven’t even seen him.”
Thankfully, we were interrupted by a new voice.
“There you are.”
We both turned as an older woman with dark hair walked out of the kitchen.
Riley grumbled, “Fuck, she found me.”
I tipped a brow and studied her flowery black dress and tightly pinned up bun. I didn’t know who she was, but she seemed familiar. Especially around the eyes. It felt like I’d see that spark in those deep chocolate depths before.
When she spotted me, a smile so bright that it lit up her whole face spread across her mouth. “Oh, you brought a friend.”
“This is Mason’s girlfriend, Harper.” Riley thrust me in front of her. “Look at how small she is.”
What? Since when did Riley refer to me as Mason’s girlfriend? The last time Mason talked to me at school she threatened to cut his balls off.
The woman tsked and shook her head. “That won’t do. Come with me, Harper.” She spun around and walked back in the kitchen, while waving for me to follow. “I’ll have you fattened up in no time.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Riley. “What’s going on?”
“Apparently we need meat on our bones to feed her great-grandbabies,” she growled while pushing me to follow the older woman.
Great-grandbabies? Wait…
“That’s Mason’s grandma?”
She rolled her eyes and muttered, “Welcome to my hell.”
I’d heard talk about the mysterious resurrection of the older generation of the Order. Riley was constantly complaining about Logan’s grandparents – who were, according to her, so sweet it made her sick – but I hadn’t heard a thing about a Grandma Kessler. Maybe I just wasn’t paying attention. It’s not like Mason and I ran in the same circles. I didn’t have a circle.
My eyes widened when we walked in the kitchen. There was so much food. It was everywhere. Lasagna, a couple casseroles, some cupcakes, and what looked like a roast. Who cooked this much? I’d seen buffets and catered events smaller.
“Come, come,” Grandma Kessler sang while pulling out a chair next to a table piled with food. “Sit.”
She seemed very nice and I didn’t want to be impolite, so I walked over and sat down.
Riley spun around to leave, but Grandma Kessler quickly added, “You too.”
I don’t think I’d ever seen a more disgruntled march than the one Riley gave as she made her way across the room to flop down on the chair next to mine. Not sure what she was so upset about. There was nothing wrong with someone wanting to feed you. It was kind of nice, right?
Wrong.
Mrs. Kessler started scooping food on our plates, and every time I thought she was done, she’d add more. By the time she stopped, my stomach was churning. I had to look around the pile on my plate to see the table.
I leaned over to Riley and whispered, “Are we supposed to eat all this?”
“When I stab her with this,” Riley picked up a fork and glared over at Mrs. Kessler, who was pulling something else out of the oven, “I’m claiming insanity.”
She was just trying to be nice. That didn’t warrant a stabbing. Then again, everything warranted a stabbing in Riley’s mind. Just last week she threatened to stick a fork in Silas’s leg because he got the last cupcake in the cafeteria. Fortunately for me, I had an excuse to get out of this.
