No, I couldn’t think about him now.
Anything was better than thinking about the infuriating, handsome blond who had already managed to get under my skin in all the wrong ways. My thoughts shifted back to Ambrose instead, which naturally brought the image of Erie to mind.
I smiled softly as I remembered our meeting, turning around to head back to the barn. She was so old—and yet so young at the same time. It was hard to see her as anything but a child, given her outward appearance.
Questions about how their aging worked overwhelmed me as I stepped into the barn and fell into my chores onautopilot. I didn’t even notice when my dad arrived, or the praise he threw my way.
At what age did vampires mature? Was Isadora my age in vampire years or was she still a child? Maybe that would explain why her brother acted like such a jerk.
“So, are we going to pretend Bryon wasn’t here the other night?”
My head snapped in my dad’s direction, my jaw working soundlessly as I searched for something—anything—to say. I couldn’t even prepare a response as the question came so suddenly. If his plan was to shock me into a conversation, it both worked and failed. He raised a brow, unimpressed by my silence, and pressed on.
“That boy has more balls than I gave him credit for,” he said, his voice even, almost amused. But just like with any father finding out this kind of situation happened under his roof, that amusement did not reach his eyes. “Sneaking around with my daughter under my own roof.”
I swallowed, my heartbeat stuttering at the shift in his tone. There was an edge to it now that matched the darkness in his eyes. My father wasn’t a cruel man, but he was a proud one. Respect meant everything to him.
And Bryon, whether he realized it or not, had crossed that line.
A quiet settled over the barn, thick as the dust floating in the rays of light. It didn’t take much to understand what this meant. If Bryon wanted to be anywhere near as close to me as we had been, he’d have to work for it.
Unfortunately, I had no intention of hitting repeat on that night. It wasn’t terrible, but I didn’t feel the sort of connection that would make me stay in this town. Not even a passing thought of his last name following my first had crossed my mind.
“It won’t happen again,” I promised quickly, hoping to quell any rising anger that might spin into a lecture that I desperately did not want to hear.
My dad sucked in a harsh breath, shaking his head sympathetically. “Poor kid. He must have been waiting so long he didn’t have the time to build experience. If he asks, tell him it was me that forbade it. Thinking of him hearing the truth makes me feel kind of bad for the mutt–I mean, boy.”
I hit his arm at the snide remark. Then, a soft cracking sound caught my attention. I turned toward the incubators lined along the wall, noticing the subtle tremble as life stirred within them. I shot to my feet and hurried over, crouching just as a thin fracture split across one of the eggs. Another followed, then another, each tiny sound echoing louder in the quiet barn.
“Well, I’ll be,” my dad murmured, stepping up behind me. “They’re here.”
I focused my attention on one that was more active. A beak poked through first—small, determined. The shell gave way in uneven pieces, falling apart as the chick fought its way into the world. Damp feathers clung to its body, its movements clumsy, but insistent. One by one, the others followed, each breaking free in their own time.
I watched as one struggled still, only managing to poke its beak through. I wanted to help, my body stepping forward to assist, but my dad stretched an arm out to stop me.
“They always make it look harder than it is,” he assured me, crossing his arms to watch with me. “Whole lot of fight for something that doesn’t even know what it's fighting for yet.”
“It’s kind of beautiful,” I admitted quietly. “Like they already know their purpose.”
He didn't answer right away. When I glanced back at him, his expression had softened into something distant, something quieter than I’d ever seen it.
“You were like that,” he said finally.
I blinked. “Me?”
He nodded, eyes moving from me, back to the unsteady chicks. “Day you were born, you grabbed onto my finger like your life depended on it. Tightest grip I’d ever felt from a baby.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “Didn’t make a sound. Just held on like you were already telling me you could handle the world. I knew you’d make me a proud father.”
I let out a small breath, sounding more like an awkward laugh as I looked back at the chicks while they stumbled over each other. Lost and thrown into the world without guidance. I didn’t feel any different from these chicks, especially considering the discovery of the existence of vampires and a secret world to top it off.
“I haven’t exactly done much with my life, though.”
“That so?” he asked.
I shrugged, not taking my eyes from the incubators. If I looked at him in this heart to heart moment, I would undoubtedly cry and I wasn’t ready to experience that on such a nice day.
“I’m still here. Same town. Same barn. Doesn’t really sound like something to be proud of.” As the words left my mouth, I realized how they would sound to him. Cringing, I apologized. “Sorry, no offense.”
“You’re alive,” he said simply. “You’re healthy. You’re standing right here talking to me.” His voice softened. “That’s enough for me to be proud of.”
