Page 13 of Fall Into Me

“Hi, Momma,” I whispered back before she let me go and headed back to the kitchen.

“Your father is washing up, but you can set the table. He won’t tell me why I’m cooking for four.”

The way my asshole clenched was actually comical. It was also probably a health hazard. My only conclusion was that the universe was playing a joke on me because, right at that moment, a knock came from behind me. I didn’t need to look to know who’s hulking figure now encompassed the entire doorframe.

“Oh no,” I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut like I’d hopefully disappear if I did it hard enough.

“Oh mygod. Tell me I’m not seeing things!” The only way I knew she’d rushed past me was because I was encompassed with a fresh wave of her scent and not so subtly shoved out of the way so she could get to the not-hallucination and very much real man who had just knocked on her open front door.

“I wish I could,” I thought I murmured too low for anyone to hear, but by the grunt behind me, I was pretty sure Fane had caught it.

“Mrs. Grey.” Fane’s voice moved through me like it was inspecting every cell in my body. I felt it behind my eyes, the way it made my skin prickle and heat and feel too tight for my body.

“Don’t you start that.” She gripped his arms and took a small step back as if she could both inspect him in his entirety and keep a hand on him at the same time. You couldn’t, but she gave it a wonderful attempt.

“I can’t believe it. How did you get away from the mines?”

Fane’s eyes snapped to mine, and I took that as my cue to turn swiftly on my heels and head for the kitchen to find a job that I could do that didn’t involve being anywhere near him.

“Right,” I heard him say, not trying to hide the grin of satisfaction at the no doubt uncomfortable situation he was now in, even as I felt the hole that he was burning into the back of my head. “Yes, the mines.”

5

Calista

After

I wouldn’t call myself the type to necessarily ‘throw hands’, but I was pretty sure I’d be good at it. The thought of taking a swing at Fane was the only thing keeping my rage in check as I stared at him across my parents’ dining table. I’d never known what it felt like to truly loathe someone—until that moment.

I wanted to take a hardy scoop of the mashed potatoes off my plate and flick it at him.

Fane’s charm was infuriating. There was something particularly brutal hearing him tell my mom she looked beautiful and apologizing for not being here sooner.

“Oh honey, you’ve done enough.” She patted his cheek with the same affection she showed me and Abbey before she headed back into the kitchen.

He had certainly done enough, of that I was sure. But I’d have to find a way of figuring out what exactly that meant to my mom. I was sure we had very different opinions of what ‘enough’was.

My parents hadn’t been able to stop gushing over him. My mom hadn’t stopped smiling once, and I was honestly impressed with how she still managed to chew her food. My dad was too busy to eat, considering that his eyes had turned into big hearts.

Turns out, Fane had, in fact, done some Googling. He’d actually done aheavyamount of Googling because, with every question my parents asked him, he had an answer. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that a small part of my soul shriveled even further at being robbed of seeing him fumble his way through that shitstorm.

I wanted to scream until my throat burned raw. Until all the rage and confusion clawing at my insides finally snuffed out. Because I wasn’t supposed to see this man ever again.

In my head, the moment he said no to coming home, our relationship had ended. It was like a switch flipped. That one word shattered something inside me, and I hadn’t stopped feeling the cracks since.

Everything I thought I knew—everything I’d seen in my parents, in how they loved each other, how they loved me and my sister—he’d destroyed it all in seconds.

And now he was here.

With no other options, my brain latched onto the one thing it could handle: anger.

Hot, steaming, fire-engine-fucking-red anger.

“What are you doing for work now you’re back?” My dad asked him around a mouthful of steak, and I zoned in on their conversation for the first time because I was also incredibly curious about the answer to that question.

Two years, and he suddenly decided to show up and disorganize my life? In the very town he refused to grace with his presence? I don’t think so.

“I’m working for my dad.”

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