Conversation flows easily. I have to give Zavier credit—he can befriend anyone. He’s a big personality, but he’s easy for people to like. I worry I’m not as easy to like, what with my quieter nature.
“Where is your family?”
It takes me a moment to realize Linda is talking to me. “What? Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” I apologize.
“Where is your family?” she asks again. “You weren’t able to spend the holiday with them?”
“Mom,” Ava hisses in annoyance.
“My parents and sister are no longer with us,” I say. It’s the truth as far as I know.
“Oh.” Linda’s face falls. “I’m so sorry.” She clears her throat. “Well, I’m glad you’re able to spend the holiday with us, then.”
I push food around my plate and try to force it down. I’mnot used to eating human food in the way Zavier or Luna are. While I was held captive, I certainly wasn’t provided human food, and what blood I was given was only enough to keep me alive.
Ava’s hand finds my thigh beneath the table, and she gives it a gentle squeeze. Somehow, she always knows when I need grounding. I look down at her, and her face is filled with worry.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly under her breath.
I nod and place my hand over hers. The cool kiss of her rings is a welcome sensation.
I’m still getting used to the nice way her touch feels. Being held for as long as I was, and beaten and tortured on a regular basis, has made adjustment hard. But I know Ava means me no harm any time she touches me. In fact, I’m beginning to crave it.
I let her touch soothe me as I force more food down.
Zavier keeps the conversation going. Even though the exuberant vampire often drives me crazy, there’s something to be said for the effortless way he does it.
When we finish dinner, Ava and I clean the dishes while Linda, Zavier, and Celine pack up the leftovers. Ava’s mom insists on sending us all home with some. I’d be okay without most of it, especially the mushy bread dish they call stuffing, but Ava is ecstatic, saying it’s even better next day.
“Your cooking is divine,” Zavier compliments Linda. “How did you learn to cook like that?”
Linda titters gleefully at the praise. “Lots of practice,” she replies.
Beside me, Ava shakes her head. “Zav always knows the right thing to say to everyone. There’s this saying about selling milk to a cow—and that’s him.”
“Selling milk to a cow?” I give her a mystified look. “Cows do not need milk. They alreadyhave it.”
She laughs and bumps her hip playfully against mine. “It’s an expression—hyperbole.”
“Hyper-what?” I stammer.
“I’ll explain it to you some other time.”
We settle into silence while I scrub the dishes clean and she dries them. I find that I greatly enjoy these simple moments between us. There’s no pressure to say the right thing. It’s just us existing in a shared space.
Once the kitchen is spotless, we gather in the living room. A football game plays on the TV, and Larry’s eyes are glued to the screen despite the volume not being on. I only recognize what’s happening as football because after our last visit, Ava gave me a rundown on sports. I don’t understand why humans would constantly want to tackle each other, but I guess it’s a good method of getting out aggression.
“I’m so glad you all decided to stay the night. Sometimes it’s too quiet here,” Linda says, clapping her hands. “I thought we could play charades.”
I lean over to Ava at my side on the couch. My lips brush her ear as I ask, “Charades?”
“It’s a game where you act something out without talking, and everyone has to guess what it is.”
My eyes widen in horror. “I do not believe I’m going to like this game.”
She pats my knee, and I capture her hand before she can pull away. “Don’t worry,” she says, looking down at where I clasp her hand and rubbing her thumb against my fingers. “I’ll help you.”
“Should we split into two or three teams?” Linda asks, looking around at the group of us.
