“You know your brother. You know how he is when it comes to you and… Your dad is here again.”

“What?”

“He’s already here.”

“What?”

Cross sighed before moving into the bedroom. He went to the closet, and I followed, his voice trailing out to where I waited by the bed. “Channing got the call by a cop buddy of his. Your dad’s in Cain. Channing thought the Red Demons had put him up somewhere. He didn’t want you to be caught by surprise, so he called for the heads-up.”

My dad was here.

Okay, then.

He hadn’t called. He’d probably call, or maybe he wouldn’t call.

I no longer knew what I was feeling or if I was feeling anything at all when it came to him. I mean, he’d already been here. Then he left, now he was back again? But not because of me. Because of… Because of why?

Why was he here?

Cross came back, his eyes gentle and studying me. “You okay?”

I stiffened, but nodded. “Yeah. I mean, yeah.”

What did I say here? I had no clue.

Cross grimaced, his mouth curving down. “I could skip my classes? Ride along with you? I’m sure Brock would be okay with that.”

I shook my head, clearing my throat. “No. No. That’s fine. That’s okay.”

“Bren.” He moved closer, but he didn’t touch me.

I was glad he was giving me that space.

His head bent, and he was within touching distance. He did that on purpose, letting me make the choice or not.

He said, “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

I moved to leave since I was dressed and ready. He caught my hand, pulling me back. No words were shared, just a last look, and I gave him another nod. “I’m good. I promise. This stuff with my dad, it’s just complicated, but I got a handle on it.”

Then, pulling my hand free, I left the room.

Jordan was just coming up from the basement. He had a nine a.m. class, but it was early for him. Seeing me, he paused, still on the stairs, grimacing.

I braked. “What?”

That look said enough.

“I seriously need some coffee,” came from behind him, and his eyes closed. He took a second before he stepped out into the hallway. He cleared the stairs, and I was blessed with the vision of Jessinda Hinkley herself.

She paused, her mouth falling open. She’d been fixing her bra strap, with her hair needing to be combed through. A red tank top over jeans that were more like a second skin, high heels, hoop earrings, and even though she had washed her face, there were still remnants of eyeliner underneath her eyes.

I was guessing Jordan had gone to a party last night.