Page 49 of Critical Strike

“Oh,” Claire breathed. “For some reason, I thought the cabin would be empty.”

“It should be...” He brought them to a stop, staring at the familiar structure with his mouth open.

She went stiff. “Are we in trouble?”

It was almost laughable. And he would’ve laughed if this latest twist didn’t complicate things even further. “No, we’re not in trouble. It’s just that this is happening earlier than I thought it would.” He got out of the car, shaking his head.

“What’s that mean?” Claire followed him, a note of fear in her voice even after he’d told her it was okay. She’d pulled Khan out of the car with her and held him to her chest, protective and a little scared.

“It means you’re about to meet my parents.” He put an arm around her waist and pulled her toward the house before she could ask any more questions or, even more likely, plant her feet and refuse to take another step.

Timing had never been his parents’ strong suit, but how were they supposed to know?

“Well, what’s this?” Clinton bolted up from his chair at the opening of the door, and a huge smile threatened to crack his face wide open. “What a great surprise!”

Sheila came in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Luke! How terrific! I was just thinking about you!”

He’d only just been thinking about her, but there wasn’t time to explain that without explaining a great deal more about Claire than he was comfortable with just then. Besides, there were more important things to talk about.

Such as, who Claire was, for starters.

“Claire, these are my parents, Clinton and Sheila Patterson.” Not the way he’d hoped to introduce her one day, but these were strange times. “Mom and Dad, this is Claire.”

He didn’t know what else to say. Certainly, he couldn’t go into detail. He didn’t even want to use her last name since they might’ve heard it on the news.

The two of them jumped into action, with Clinton directing Claire to the chair he’d just vacated. “You two look half-starved,” Sheila decided. “I was just putting supper on. And look at that gorgeous cat! I’m sure I can dig up a little something for you, too.”

Either Khan understood English or his instincts were sharp enough to know who he needed to become best friends with. He took his leave from Claire and trotted into the kitchen on Sheila’s heels. Clinton added wood to the fire. “The cabin’s been closed up for a while now, and you’ll find the nights get fairly cool this time of year.”

Neither of them asked questions, either because they knew better than to delve into their sons’ lives—no telling where their work led them or how much they could share—or because they had enough tact not to make things awkward.

That was one thing the two of them had to spare, tact. It was what had made them ideal foster parents to four wounded, scared boys. They knew when to ask questions and when to leave well enough alone.

Before he knew it, the four of them were seated around the kitchen table, and Sheila was piling pasta on Claire’s plate. “One thing you learn as a mother to four boys is how to quickly double a meal. I swear, I don’t know how I managed to keep the kitchen stocked in those days.” She added vegetables to the plate before handing it over. Ever a parent.

“It must’ve been...interesting.” Claire’s gaze darted over to Luke, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, sweetheart, it was a real challenge sometimes. Well, it was!” Sheila laughed when Luke rolled his eyes. “The four of you were so spirited and stubborn. Remember the one trip we took up here, where you almost drowned yourself in the lake? Convinced you’d caught a big one.”

“It was a tire.” Clinton laughed. “And I warned him, I did, but he insisted he’d caught something legendary. Lost his balance and ended up in water over his head.”

“This was before he learned to swim, mind you.” Sheila shook her head, laughing. “Life wasn’t boring, I’ll tell you that much.”

Luke couldn’t help but marvel at his mother’s ability to draw Claire out of her shell. They weren’t more than a few minutes into the meal before she was laughing, not to mention the way she tore into her supper like she hadn’t eaten in ages. It did him good to see her with an appetite.

It was just like being a kid again, when he’d first arrived at the Patterson home. How scared and wounded and untrusting he’d been. How Sheila had worked her way into his trust, how she hadn’t pushed but instead pulled him into the warmth of her love with food and laughter, letting him come around in his own good time.

He could almost forget what was happening around them, the cloud hanging over their heads. It all felt so right, being there with her, sitting down with his parents...like Claire was already part of the family.

There was no more awkwardness until it came time to turn in. Naturally, his parents expected to take the master bedroom with its king-size bed.

Leaving the second bedroom to Luke and Claire.

“Bunk beds.” Claire’s amusement was evident, no matter how she tried to hide it.

“Two sets.” He leaned against one set with a sigh as memories bumped against each other, almost too many for him to handle.

“This is where you boys slept?”

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