Page 163 of Cathmoir's Sons

“Oh.” Dad’s silent for a moment. “That’s good, right? You’ve always been more connected to your fae side than the rest of us.”

“Yes, Dad. It’s good. You’ll like them. Law can argue a leg off a chair. You can debate socioeconomics forever.”

Dad chuckles. “Good. Mitch never gives me a good fight. He caves as soon as things get heated.”

“Look in the dictionary under stubborn and you’ll find Law’s picture. And Luca will out-fact you to death.”

“Man after my own heart.”

“You’ll like them,” I repeat. “They’re good to me. They’re goodforme. But we have to do something tomorrow, Dad. Something big. And if things don’t go well, I wanted you to know that I’m happy. I’m with people who love me. And ... I love you and Mom and Chels. I wanted you to know.”

“Sweetheart, of course, we know. I know things haven’t been great between you and Chelsea, but I honestly think if you gave your sister a chance, you’d find she has things she wants to say to you. She’s not having the easiest time of it right now. She could use her big sister’s support. But I don’t like the sound of whatever you’re doing tomorrow. Does it have to be done?”

“Yeah, Dad. It does.”

“Your, uh, guys, they’ll be there with you?”

“They will.” I chuckle quietly. “I’ve tried to get rid of them, but they won’t go. They’ll be beside me the whole way.”

“Anything your old dad can help with?”

I smile mistily at the phone. “No, Dad. And I’m not just saying that because I do everything alone. The boys have called me on that. I’m letting them help me.”

“Good.” Dad claps his hands, and I picture him sunk into his comfortable armchair, in front of the television, with the phone tucked into the crook of his neck. “I like them better already.”

“You’ll like them,” I say a third time and feel the charm take hold. Despite their differences and our unorthodox situation, my consorts will get along with my parents. “We’ll bring dessert, okay? Don’t let Mom make apple pie. Or pumpkin. Goddess, that was awful.” Dad grunts at the memory. “Or pecan. Or any kind of pie. No pie.”

“No pie,” Dad repeats. “Hey, kid.”

I smile and wipe away a tear with the back of my hand, remembering how he used to greet me every night when he came home from work. “Hey, Dad.”

“Take care of yourself, kid.”

“I will, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Kells. Be safe. Tell those boys to take good care of you or they’ll answer to me. Over your mom’s pie.”

I laugh. “That’s honestly the scariest threat I’ve ever heard.”

“Be sure to tell them.”

“I will. Goodnight, Dad. See you at Imbolc.”

“See you then, sweetheart. Thanks for calling. It means a lot.”

It’s meant a lot to me, too. I say goodbye again and hang up the call.

When I turn, Law is standing behind me, leaning against the closed doors into the house, wearing only his leather pants in thefreezing night, steam rising off his skin, a lazy grin stretching his cheeks.

“Stalker.” I shake my head at him.

“Cait,” he responds. “Good talk with your dad?”

I nod. “I said we’ll go for Imbolc.”

“Good. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to flaunt us to your sister and your miserable ex.”

“I don’t intend toflauntyou, but they’ll be there.”

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