Page 18 of Virgin Skin

“Are you kidding right now?” Hero grumbles.

Piston swivels in his chair and I hold my breath, even though I’m not quite sure why.

“I’m not the only one with a spare room,” he argues.

Hero raises an eyebrow. “Arrow and Lewisjustmoved in together and they’re still in their ‘fucking all over the house’ phase.” Arrow nods in silent agreement. “Jag’s house is one more piece of scrap metal away from being declared a hoarder situation, and Tex and I both have one-bedrooms.”

The two of them have a silent staring contest that feels like it lasts for a century while my heart hammers and I fidget nervously with a loose string inside my pocket.

“Please?” my dad says more gently.

Piston’s shoulders sag. It’s obvious who won the standoff. He clears his throat and his jaw ticks as he sets it with resolve.

“Yeah, of course he can stay in my spare room as long as he needs. Your family is my family.” That last part sounds almost like he’s reminding himself.

I ping-pong my eyes back and forth between them, quickly catching up with what’s happening.

“I really don’t need—” I start to argue, even though Piston’s spare bedroom sounds a hell of a lot more appealing than the motel for the next month.

“I missed out on twenty-eight years of being an overprotective dad. Indulge me?”

A warm feeling swells in my chest and clogs up my throat. I nod.

“Yeah. Thanks.” I risk another glance at Piston, hoping no one else can tell how hard I’m trying not to jump up and down at this unexpected turn of events.

He meets my gaze and my skin heats under his attention.

Living under the same roof as Piston? Sharing a shower and having breakfast together every morning? Having unlimited opportunities to convince him I’m a fully-fledged adult, perfectly capable of deciding for myself who I sleep with?

Well, if Dad insists…

Chapter 7

MILO

I stuff my handsinto my pockets and pull them back out again, then cross my arms over my chest before realizing how awkward and unnatural it is to walk that way. I should probably say something, right? Usually, I don’t have any trouble letting my mouth run away with me, but of course my mind is completely blank right now. How exactly are you supposed to start a conversation with a man you’ve never met but who supplied half your DNA?

For his part, Hero seems just as nervous as I am, running his hands through his hair more than once and doing the same hands-in-pockets, hands-out-of-pockets thing I was doing all the way down the street.

“This place has really good sauerkraut,” he says.

I nod, but then my blabbermouth kicks in. “I hate sauerkraut.”

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. “They have other stuff too.”

I bob my head again and give a smile that I hope looks less awkward than it feels. “Cool.”

There’s some relief when we reach the deli a couple of blocks from Ink Slingers. At least eating will give us something to do with our hands while we figure out how to have a normal conversation. Hero pulls the door open and waves me through.

The smell of sausage and sauerkraut hits me as soon as I step inside. It looks like they have a whole variety of non-German options as well, so that’s promising. The guy behind the counter is a big dude with a bushy mustache and a stained apron.

“Hero, hey man,” he says, reaching over the counter to fist-bump Hero.

“Hey, Klaus.” My dad pats the guy’s shoulder heartily after they bump knuckles. “How’s your kid doing?”

Klaus’ smile widens. “Getting stronger every day. I’ll never be able to repay you guys.”

Hero waves him off. “We were all happy we could help.” He glances over my way and then clears his throat. “Actually, uh, speaking of kids… this is mine.”

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