Page 6 of Killer Heart (The Chaos Crew 3)

THREE

Decima

Just outside theMalik family home, I hesitated.

I knew that I had the right place—a large, two-story home with cedar porch furniture and decorations that looked… cozy. I’d imagined a mansion like the household’s or a large, sleekly designed home from a magazine, but this was a more modest building, and one that looked lived-in. Around the side of the wrap-around porch, I spotted a splash of brighter color from beach towels and a pair of swimming trunks hanging over the railing to dry. I couldn’t see the pool from the front of the house, but I imagined the porch would lead me there if I continued around.

Instead, I eyed the beige front door, a wreath hanging there with the word “welcome” written in a calligraphic style across the center. All I had to do was knock, and I had no doubt these people would welcome me into their home as if I truly was one of them. But once they met me… would everything change?

I was nothing like the Maliks. I’d never lived in a cozy house with a pool. I’d never had people who loved me the way that a normal family loved one another. I wasn’t even sure what love was.

I raised my hand to knock on the door, but it opened before I had the chance. Damien Malik greeted me with a wide smile, wearing khaki shorts and a collared shirt with a vibrant Hawaiian print.

Was this how he dressed when he was home with his family? I couldn’t remember ever seeing him in anything that wasn’t on the grayscale, but all my images of him were from his work life. Apparently the guy knew how to relax a little.

A plethora of emotions flashed through his eyes as he looked me over, likely taking in the dress shirt and slacks I’d worn in a misguided attempt to fit in. I’d assumed that meeting a politician in his home would be similar to doing it in his office, but this was nowhere near as formal as I’d anticipated judging by my father’s clothing.

After a second, Malik shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you standing outside. My wife would fillet me for my manners. It’s just… it’s hard to comprehend that you’re really here—the daughter I’d spent over twenty years thinking that we lost.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Enough of my sappy rambling. I can tell it’s making you uncomfortable. Come in, please.”

This was the defining moment, so I plastered on my best ingratiating smile and stepped through the doorway.

The inside of the house gave off the same welcoming energy as the outside of it. I walked inside through the entranceway, and despite what appeared to be a coat closet, a few pairs of shoes scattered the entrance rug, and coats hung from makeshift hooks on the walls—over a dozen at least.

How many people had gathered for this get-together?

Malik’s hand hovered over my shoulder and then dropped to his side as he thought better of attempting physical contact just yet. “The rest of the family is in the living room waiting to meet you. I hope you won’t find it too much. Your mother and I couldn’t help sharing the news, and everyone wanted to see you with their own eyes.” He chuckled awkwardly. “I promise that none of us bite.”

That was such a dad joke—so much of a dad joke that I recognized it as one from my limited knowledge of pop culture without ever having had a dad before—that it put me more at ease.

“I can’t wait to meet them,” I said, which was kind of true. I did want to get to know my whole family, but I’d expected this first visit to be just Damien and his wife… my mother. I was still having trouble wrapping my own head around that idea.

Maybe it was better to get all the introductions over at once and to get a sense of the overall family vibe. They must be close-knit if they’d all jumped to visit this quickly.

Malik—Damien—my mind balked at thinking of him as Dad—motioned me to a doorway to the left of a broad wooden staircase. “We’ll have a little private get-together with the immediate family first. The others can wait. I don’t want to drop too much on you all at once.”

I dragged in a breath with a little relief. “Okay.”

Damien led me into a small sitting room. A woman I recognized as his wife from the photos and an unfamiliar young man who looked to be in his late teens stood up from the sofa at our entrance.

Mrs. Malik froze in place, staring at me with wide eyes. Damien went over to her, and she clutched his shoulder, never tearing her eyes from me.

“My Rachel,” she whispered, and pressed her hand to her mouth. She took a step closer, searching my face, and I found myself searching hers too, looking for the college girl who’d looked like me.

I could catch traces of that younger woman in her eyes and the line of her jaw, though the shape of her nose and lips had been altered by her plastic surgery. Fine lines were starting to creep from the corners of her eyes and mouth like they did on Damien. But even with the subtle signs of age, she was beautiful with her naturalistic makeup and striped sundress.

Damien beckoned me over, and I stepped hesitantly toward the two of them. “Mom?”

The word sounded alien falling from my lips, but a beaming smile spread across the woman’s face. She wrapped her arms around me in a hug that I had to stop myself from tensing against.

My instinctive resistance only lasted a second. Then I started to relax into her embrace. It felt… warm. Motherly, even. I laughed inwardly at my little joke and let my arms rise to return the hug.

I had a mother. A mother who’d been missing me all this time.

“Rachel,” she murmured, and eased back to gaze into my eyes again, her own shining with joy. “My sweet girl has come back to us. It’s a miracle.”

A strange sensation swelled in my chest. I’d never felt anything like it before. In all my years at the household—all the years of Ana taking a semi-maternal role—nobody had ever hugged me like this. Nobody had ever shown I mattered like this.

I tore my gaze away to glance at the boy who’d stayed by the sofa, where he was eying me skeptically. He had the same storm gray eyes as both Damien and me, but his were lighter than mine, diluted with a touch of green like my mother’s. Our mother’s? He also had the tawny brown hair I’d seen in pictures of Damien when he was younger and a height that matched the older man’s, though he hadn’t quite filled out that height yet. His limbs were still a bit gangly.

---