Page 51 of Entangled

He cringes. “It’ll only be my dad and Tiff. And my dad’s an even better cook than me.”

“You can use the word fuck.”

His face turns hopeful. “So you’ll come to dinner?”

I throw back my head with a laugh before looking back to him. “No way.”

“That was mean, Delacroix.” He gives me a sullen expression. “Please. It will make up for you ghosting me. That was a really big hit to my self-esteem, you know.”

I pat his shoulder consolingly. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“Not so sure about that.” He eyes me consideringly. “You know, my dad was around a lot when our moms hung out back in the day. He might remember something about what was going on there at the end.”

My mouth drops open and I stare at him, stunned into momentary silence.

“Are you really using potential information about my parents’ deaths as leverage to get me to come to family dinner with you?”

“Me?” He raises his brows. “Never.” His lips tighten briefly in what I’m guessing is a fight against a grin. “Just pointing out the possible benefits of attending is all.” He leans in closer, firework eyes twinkling down at me as his voice drops intimately. “Plus, I’ve kinda missed your mess.”

Fuck.

I feel myself wavering and can’t help but scold myself for being the girl reduced to crumbling at the sight of a pretty face and a little bit of attention.

Stop lying to yourself, El. You know there’s more to it than that.

His voice is painfully sincere when he speaks. “Please, El.”

Oh how the mighty have fallen.

“Fine,” I grumble, standing from the steps as he flashes me that brilliant smile in victory. “Give me ten minutes to change.”

Chapter 13

Present Day

Jace pulls to a stop in front of a low-slung plank house about ten minutes from my gram’s place, parking halfway in the grass along the road. He turns the car off and pushes his door open, jogging around to open mine as I reach for the handle. I let him pull the door open for me and step out of his jeep, taking in the house, seeing a long porch running the length of it and a beat-up-looking blue Ford truck in the driveway. You can definitely tell that a woman is not in residence even from the outside of the house but it still seems to be in good shape. He holds out a hand for me to grab as we hop over the drainage ditch at the front of the yard, then lets go and gives me an unsure look.

“So my dad might be a little uh—overexuberant about your appearance tonight.” His eyes dart away from mine nervously. “He tends to get pretty excited about anything that reminds him of when my mom was… When she was still here.”

“Hey.” I reach over and grab his hand again, giving it a squeeze. Incapable of not offering him comfort at the rare show of nervousness. “It’ll be great.” I throw him a smirk. “You’re feeding me, remember? I’m bound to have a good time.”

A hesitant grin pulls at his lips. “Right. Forgot about that part.”

I hold his hand the rest of the way to the front door before letting go as he pushes it open.

“Yo, Pops?” He steps into the house and calls out, turning to close the door behind me. “Where you at?”

“Kitchen!” a low, gravelly voice hollers in response.

My eyes scan the space as Jace leads me through the entry and living room, seeing the tackle box in the entry and the lazy boy chair in front of the TV. It would be the quintessential bachelor pad if it weren’t for the little pops of femininity here and there. A random porcelain bunny along the windowsill looking out into the backyard. An out-of-place music box on the mantel above the fireplace. I stop when a picture on the living room wall snags my gaze.

A golden-haired woman with forest-green eyes stares out at the camera, laughing with a little boy tucked in her arms, who’s staring up at her in adoration. And I know it’s Jace and his mom without needing to ask. The similarities between them are striking, even at his young age. They have the same playful almond-shaped eyes. The same coloring and sensual lips. I can see the love between them in the picture and my heart aches for Jace as he halts beside me.

“She was beautiful,” I tell him softly, pulling my eyes from the photo to see a small, sad smile on his face.

“She was.” He nods, voice wistful. “She had this way of lighting everything up around her. She always made everything seem better, no matter how bad, right up until the end.”

I nudge his shoulder with mine, hating the mournfulness on his face. “Sounds a lot like someone else I know.”

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