Page 110 of Shadow Dance

“Everybody, chill out,” Maeve cries. “You guys! This is Cruz.”

She turns to me, lowering her voice. “I wanted you to meet Bria, too, but she just had the baby. Her mom’s staying with them until Lucky gets back in a couple days.”

“It’s cool that he came at all.”

She nods, her eyes finding her brother. “He wanted to be here for me.”

“Do you like Batman or Spiderman better?” demands Liam, shoving two action figures at me.

Before I can respond, Maeve tugs on my arm, pulling me closer like she’s shielding me from the onslaught of attention. “Cruz is starving,” she announces. “Let’s get some food in him before you all scare him away.”

“I’ll have you know that lunch hasbeenready,” Mrs. Kelly says, her eyebrows lifted as she gives her daughter a pointed look. “You two were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

An hour ago Maeve was coming on my cock again. Good thing I’m too brown to blush. “It smells fantastic in here,” I say, giving her mother what I hope is a sincere smile. “Thanks for having me.”

“Of course! We’re glad you’re here. Maeve’s been really missing you,” she says with a gentle smile. “Anyway, we have quite the spread. I made a roast, and we picked up some beautiful mahi at a market this morning, too. And the produce! I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

“She bought enough fruit to last a month,” Tristan adds.

“I helped make cookies,” Liam calls over. “Do you like peanut butter or chocolate chip better?”

Mr. Kelly clears his throat, stepping forward, and the room quiets a bit. His kids really take after him, especially Tristan. “Cruz, it’s great to meet you. Thanks for—” He stops suddenly, and I realize he’s gathering himself. “Thank you for taking care of my daughter when I couldn’t. You risked your life for her, and that’s a debt we can never repay.”

Well, shit. I wasn’t expecting that. “There’s no debt. I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” I reply quietly, my heart thumping when Maeve slips her hand into mine. I wonder if they know just how bad it was, how close we came to dying. They must, if they’re treating me like this.

“I know you would, son,” he says, squeezing my shoulder. “You’re a good man.”

My throat thickens. Maeve’s father barely knows me, but he accepts me. I didn’t realize I even needed that.

Growing up, it was just my mom and me, and I was fine with that. But there’s something undeniably appealing about this loud, chaotic brood of people who love each other. They remind me of my family down here, and it’s easy to see why Maeve missed them so much when she was separated from them.

Lucky hands his father and me glasses of what looks like whiskey. Seems everyone’s got a glass. “I’d like to make a toast,” he says.

Maeve beams, giving me an encouraging smile as she lifts her glass.

“To family and the bonds that tie us together, even when we’re apart,” he says. “You’re family now, Cruz.”

“Like it not,” Tristan adds, and the group titters.

It’s easy to see how Maeve came from these people. They’re genuine and devoted to each other, and they’re not afraid to say what they feel. After a life of duplicity, that’s refreshing.

“I’ll take it,” I say, cracking a smile.

Lucky smiles too, tapping his glass to mine. “Sláinte!”

“Sláinte!” everyone echoes, even me. I’m not familiar with the phrase, but I understand it.

“All right, enough of that,” Mrs. Kelly announces, clapping her hands together. “Let’s eat before the food gets any colder.”

We make our way to the dining room, where there’s a long, rectangular table packed with so much food that I can barely see the wood beneath. I see Mrs. Kelly’s roast and the mahi she’d been raving about, surrounded by pasta salad, fruit, rolls, asparagus … and a lot of other stuff. I must look dazed because Maeve snorts. “Now you see why my mom was so insistent on you coming over. She loves nothing more than to feed a crowd.”

“I can see that.”

I take a seat next to Maeve, our knees brushing under the table. For the next couple of hours, conversation flows easily as everyone passes around the food, laughter punctuating the stories.

Witnessing Maeve in this context, with her family, fills in blank spots I didn’t even know existed. This is the softest version of her I’ve ever seen—she’s so loved here. No wonder she was a shell of herself in Oakland. She was like a plant deprived of sun and water.

She catches me staring like she has a thousand times, and this time she doesn’t look away. It’s hard not to fall a little deeper when she looks at me like this.

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