The clock shredded the minutes. I caught myself fluffing the same couch pillow three times before headlights finally cut across the lower drive, lighting up the stone pillars and the walkway. My whole spine snapped straight. This was it.
Before anybody could even reach for the knocker, I yanked the front door wide.
Tash stood at the top step, hair pulled back, mouth tense. Seeing her hit like a shockwave. Sixteen years hadn't dimmed a damn thing, nor had the time since I'd seen her last at the bakery.
The twins bracketed her shoulder to shoulder. Meredith, tall and still as a statue with chocolate brown hair and big eyes. Fifi was a bit hunched, scanning the entry like she was about to bolt, repeatedly tucking her dark red hair behind her chin. The dog, a light-coated bundle of curls and stubborn loyalty, hovered at their feet, staring at me with the kind of judgment reserved for politicians and mailmen. He'd clearly clocked my dragon already.
"Come in," I said. I pushed the door open wider, hoping the rush of warm air might thaw things.
They shuffled in. Tash took the lead, boots scuffing the threshold. She never let go of the twins, a hand on each elbow like maybe she could anchor the whole family by sheer will. The girls moved with a teenager's combination of awkwardness and grace. Fifi first, then Mere. "This is Huey," Tash said as the dog slid in sideways as if he needed to keep all three in his line of sight.
Inside, the fire had done its job. The great room was flush with warmth, every surface throwing a subtle heat. Even the stone along the mantle glowed.
The awkwardness hit immediately. I waved at the seating. A generous couch by the hearth, a couple of chairs. Nothing fancy but all sturdy and comfortable.
"Make yourselves at home," I urged, but nobody rushed to sit.
The twins didn't hide their nerves. Mere slid into a corner of the couch and locked her hands together, as if bracing for an earthquake. Fifi hovered near the end, arms wrapped so tightly around herself I thought she might vanish inside her hoodie. The dog darted to and fro, then planted himself between the girls and the nearest window.
I tried to play host. "There are snacks. Rolls, if you want. Or water, juice, whatever." I gestured at the tray, cinnamon scent rising off it tantalizingly. "Just help yourselves."
No one moved. Not even Tash. I'd never seen her look so strained. Not that I'd seen her looking much of anything. We'd had a one-night stand, and I'd seen her around town a couple of times.
I wanted to see more. Much, much more.
"Mom, you owe me cake," Fifi muttered, but she didn't budge from her seat.
Tash gave a careful smile. "We're good, thank you."
Mere stared into the fire as though it might explain the universe.
I sat, not too close, not at the end either. I wanted to give them space, but this was my house and my problem, a balancing act I didn't know how to master.
For a full minute nobody said a thing. I had to keep still so I didn't angle closer to Tash without thinking.The fire crackled. The tray of snacks just steamed in the middle of the coffee table.
I broke first. I had to. My palms actually sweated. "Listen, I can imagine how weird this must be for you," I said. "It’s not easy for me either. I'm not going to pretend I have the right to even sit here, not after sixteen years off the map. But I want to be honest."
I glanced at the twins. Their expressions weren't hard to read. In Fifi's, a flash of anger, in Mere's, careful observation.
I swallowed, then made myself meet the moment. "We've lost sixteen years. I don't care if there's any fault on anyone's part." My mother's presence loomed even though she wasn't in the house. "But I still missed everything. And I'm sorry. I want to make up for lost time, not with promises but with honesty. Starting now."
The words landed heavily. I expected Tash to jump in with her own words, or maybe just shut it down. But it was Fifi who went straight for the jugular. "How do you think anything can make up for it?" Her voice cracked through the quiet, sharper than the fire popping in the grate. Her whole posture screamed challenge. I knew, in that second, I wasn't going to get a break from this kid. Caden actually perked up, amused at her guts.
But before I could shape a reply, something in the air changed. The heat spiked, an instant electric wave that shimmered along the walls. It bent the light in the room. Even the stones around the fireplace looked blurry. Caden shot straight up, dragging everything with him.
My vision swung from Fifi to the line of snacks, near where Lola, my white fluffy cat had perched, hoping for crumbs. The second the dragon light hit, she arched her back and hissed, tail fluffed to three times normal.
But all of that was background noise to what happened next.
Fifi jerked in her seat, eyes going wide. Her whole body folded inward, hands clutching her hoodie at her chest.
The sound she made, raw and desperate, wasn't human or animal. Just pain, pure and simple.
She doubled over, gasping like every breath cost her a year. Sweat popped across her brow. For a second, she tried to talk, lips moving but nothing coming out. Her knuckles were white on the fabric, like she was bracing for something to claw out of her ribcage.
Tash was on her feet before I blinked. "Fifi. Honey, look at me. Slow down. You're okay. You're safe."
Mere slid in between them, hand clamped tight onFifi's shoulder, fingers shaking from effort. "Breathe, Fifi. In for four, out for six. Remember?"
