Page 19 of Feels Like Home

Afraid that Ian had already driven away, Jace shot through the house and out the front door. To his relief, Ian was leaning against Jace’s car with his ankles crossed and hands clasped in front of him, gazing at the ground.

As Jace approached, Ian glanced up at the sky. “Sorry for abruptly leaving.”

“My mom didn’t know.” Jace settled next to Ian, wanting nothing more than to lean into him, but he was unsure if Ian would welcome the closeness.

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you learn to roll with the punches.” Ian pulled a coated rubber band from his front pocket and tied his hair into a messy bun. “It’s not your mom’s fault I struggle with a family dynamic.”

“You talk like you’re ninety.” Jace folded his arms over his chest. “I know about anxieties. I’ve lived with them since my dad died.” He kicked at the ground with the toe of his shoe. “I sat in the car with him for two hours before a motorist spotted the wreck and called for help.”

“You said the crash killed your father.” Ian glanced at him. “That means you sat with…”

“Yeah.” Jace nodded, avoiding Ian’s gaze. “I was in therapy for years, but I was never the same after that day. I was no longer that outgoing kid who loved to laugh and make friends. I just became…me.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Then you come along and…”

“And what?” Ian turned toward Jace, his right side now leaning against the car.

“When I’m around you… I don’t know.” Jace shrugged, once again kicking the toe of his shoe against the ground. “My words flow more easily, except when my brain locks up on me.” He rubbed the back of his neck before changing the subject. “It’s up to you, but my mom wants you to come back inside.”

“What if I need your hand on my leg again?” Ian asked.

“Then I better put on an oven mitt.” After a few long moments, he finally looked at Ian, noticing loose strands of hair dancing in the breeze. Jace brushed away the ones caught in Ian’s thick lashes. Closing his hand over Jace’s, Ian pressed a soft kiss against his palm.

“Someone is peeking out the window,” Ian said with amusement. “I think we’re being spied on.”

“That’s my family for you.” Jace turned just in time to see the curtain fall back into place. “Who was it?”

“Your adorable grandmother.” Ian chuckled. “I’ve never been compared to tequila before. I thought it was a tall glass of water.”

“She’s definitely unique.” And the nosiest granny Jace had ever met. “She told me not to kiss you on our first date, and no sex, that I should make you work for it.”

Ian leaned in close. “Should I confess to her what we did in this very driveway last night?”

A wave of heat surged down Jace’s neck. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You should do it again,” Ian countered, his confidence and charm returning. “You have no idea how much it turned me on when my shy little kitten took what he wanted, last night and this morning.”

Jace’s brows shot up as his gaze wandered to Ian’s cock. “We should finish breakfast,” he squeaked.

“Don’t forget your oven mitt,” Ian grumbled as Jace grabbed his hand and led him back inside the house.

Chapter Six

Growing up on the streets, Ian had survived. Facing down enemies who had it in their thick skulls that they couldn’t be taken down, Ian had put them on their asses. Proving he had what it took to not only compete in preternatural snowboarding competitions but work his way to the top and make millions, Ian had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams.

So far in life, nothing had been able to defeat his fierce stubbornness or relentless determination.

Sitting at the kitchen table with two tiny women staring at him, Ian was utterly terrified.

Family was the one unquenchable longing he couldn’t seem to attain. It was an unending search for a sense of belonging and connection, but it constantly slipped through his fingers.

Now, after nearly two and a half centuries, it was within his grasp. All he had to do was not royally screw this up, which would be a miracle given how his brain had become a malfunctioning lightbulb whenever Myla or Inez asked him a simple question. It was like his mind was playing a cruel game of freeze tag and he was “it.”

“Ian?” Myla frowned. “Did you hear what I just said?”

“I must have missed it.” He cleared his throat. “Would you mind repeating it?”

She pursed her lips, her hazel eyes filled with concern. “I said I’m terribly sorry for upsetting you. That wasn’t my intention.”

“You had no way of knowing,” he replied as his gaze landed on the oven mitt hanging by the stove.

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