Page 8 of Finding You

After promising to talk to her soon, Zion left Dorian to finish cleaning up the kitchen. He grabbed his jacket from the front closet, then walked around the building to his parents’ cottage.

Years ago, after leaving their corporate America jobs, they had purchased the Italian architectural style Greystone and turned it into a B & B. It was several stories high and had seven-bedroom suites, a huge eat-in kitchen, dining room, living room, and a library. His mother and father resided in the two-bedroom, two-bathroom cottage located behind the main building.

Instead of just walking into their place, Zion rang the doorbell. He needed to set a few things straight with his mother, but what he really wanted to do was talk to his dad. Israel Priestly was the best man, and the best listener Zion knew, and he rarely exerted an opinion unless asked. Even then, he’d ask enough questions to make a person come to their own conclusion before they realized he hadn’t answered their question.

Zion had the best parents in the world, who absolutely adored their family. They made a great team. While his mother was loving, kind, and always had a hug for them, his father could be best described as the strong, silent type. Still, his dad’s presence was always seen and felt especially when Zion and his sisters were growing up. His father attended practically every soccer, basketball, and football game. As well as recitals, swim meets, and a host of other activities they participated in.

While his dad was mostly responsible for getting them around until Zion’s sister, Essence, was old enough to drive, their mother took care of the house. Despite working a full-time job, there was always a home cooked meal for them every day during the week. Sometimes that included leftovers, but she always made sure there was food on the table. She loved cooking and baking, especially for her family. Opening a bed and breakfast seemed like a natural fit for her and his dad.

The door swung open, and his mother stood there with her hand on her hip watching him. She had changed out of her work clothes and into lounging pajamas that were still dressy enough to wear out in public.

Normally, she had a smile and a hug for everyone she met, but right now, she wasn’t smiling and made no move to hug him. Zion couldn’t read her expression, but she wasn’t one for keeping her thoughts to herself for long.

Maybe I should’ve gone home to eat. With Onyx at the neighbors’ house, Zion didn’t have to rush home, but now he wished he had.

“Are you going to let me in?” Zion asked.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on or what happened between you and Raven?” she countered.

“Virginia, let the boy in,” Zion’s father said from somewhere nearby, but his mother didn’t move.

“Mom,” Zion said when she didn’t open the door wider.

When she finally did, he gave her a wide berth, not wanting her to pop him upside the head. Something that happened often enough when he was growing up, and she made no apologies for it. Tonight wouldn’t be any different, especially since she was clearly pissed.

His mother might’ve wanted more grandkids, but she was old school. You dated. Got married. And then you started a family. If the twins were his, that meant he’d passed those first two criterions and leaped headfirst into the third.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, he told himself. It wasn’t a definite that they were his.

“Hey, Dad,” he said when he entered the house.

Israel Priestly was a big man. They were close in height, but his dad had at least twenty pounds on him, and much of it was still muscle. He was fit considering he was in his late sixties, and it helped he did some form of working out daily. He could easily pass for ten years younger, especially since his hair and goatee still had more black than gray.

They exchanged fist bumps before Zion headed to the kitchen to heat up some of the food. He had no doubt that they’d follow him in there, especially his mother.

“Wash your hands before you do anything,” his mother said, leaning a hip against the long center island.

Zion sighed. “I know the rules.” He set the bag down and rinsed his hands in the kitchen sink.

“Do you?” his mother snapped. “Because I taught all my kids to wait until marriage before sex, but I think it’s safe to say you didn’t.”

Yes, she had, and his dad had given him his first box of condoms—just in case. But Zion kept that information to himself.

His dad sighed loudly and pulled out a chair at the small kitchen table. “Have a seat, Virginia.”

Zion hid his smirk as he shoved one of the food containers into the microwave. His mom was a force to be reckoned with on any given day, but in his parents’ home, Israel was the boss. Except for when he wasn’t because his mother wasn’t one of those weak women who did everything her man said to do.

“Tell us what’s going on, son,” his father said when they were all seated. “Is it true you might be the father of that young lady’s kids?”

Zion huffed out a breath. Yep, he should’ve gone home to eat.

“If you saw those babies, especially Andrew, you wouldn’t have to ask. Look at this photo,” Zion’s mother said, pulling a picture from a pocket in her lounging pants. She handed it to his dad, and Zion glanced at it and swallowed hard.

If he didn’t know the baby in the photo was him, he’d swear it was Andrew.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

He could try to deny the facts if he wanted to, but it was getting useless. Still, he wasn’t admitting to anything or taking responsibility until he knew for sure.

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