I really could have used a shot of tequila, or some magic pill to get rid of the race of thoughts tearing at my mind. Distracted by my anxiety, I started to knock on the white wooden door, then realized what I was doing, opened it, and took my shoes off, suddenly mortified that Kael could see I didn’t have matching socks on. He politely took his boots off, setting them next to my little sneakers.

“One of the many rules in this house,” I whispered to him, and he nodded, looking me in the eyes instead of around the room.

He followed me into the kitchen, which was filled with the aroma of honey and cinnamon, and what might have been ham. It smelled like a holiday.

“Hey! You made it. I was getting a little worried . . .” Estelle greeted me like she usually did. Fake. Whether it was excitement or worry, it was all fake.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said. “I had to stay behind a little at work, um . . . and then I was helping Elodie’s friend. I mean, Austin’s friend. Well, he’s sort of everyone’s friend.” I turned to introduce Kael. I was clearly freaking the hell out and we had been in the kitchen for maybe thirty seconds, max.

Estelle wasn’t doing the best job, either, at hiding her surprise over the extra body in the room. “Oh, well . . . hey. Hi! I’m Estelle.” Her big earrings shook with her head, and I found myself sort of using Kael’s body as a shield from her.

My dad was seated at the head of the table when Kael and I entered the dining room. He might have been reading the Army Times or listening to the radio, but no, he was sitting in his king chair in silence. Just waiting. His confused look turned to stone as he stared at us in the entryway. I took him in, sitting there with his craggy face and sparse white hair. It was really thinning now. So was his papery skin. Everyone on my dad’s side of the family turned to snow early. It looked beautiful on the women—at least it did in photographs—but I secretly hoped I would take after my mom, as I always had. She was eternal summer.

My dad moved his eyes off me without any expression on his face and looked at Kael, who took a step back. Instinct or nervousness—who knew? My dad was only a few inches over five feet tall and he was intimidating, even sitting down. He could be soft at times. And when he didn’t want to, he could cut like a knife.

I was waiting for the fallout for being late when my dad finally stood up to shake Kael’s hand, his eyes moving to the name on his chest.

“Martin, nice to—”