Page 78 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part One

“You look beautiful, Shae,” I say, settling on the truth. She smiles and looks down at her feet for a moment before meeting my gaze again.

There’s so much in her expression, a lot I can’t decipher.

Maybe I don’t want to; I only want to exist in her space.

“Come in,” she says, stepping away from the door. I squeeze past her, turning sideways, and that citrus scent I’ve come to associate with Shae Rivers is stronger here, so close to her.

I stand in the landing, taking in the cozy home. It’s warm in here—like the heart of the home keeps the walls alive.

There are family pictures by the front door, and I can’t look away from the history of Shae’s upbringing before me.

There’s a dated Olan Mills close-up of a squinty baby dressed in pink and green lace, next to what looks like a first-grade picture that’s one hundred percent Shae.

Four thick pigtails separate her scalp into equal quadrants, and despite missing her front top tooth, she smiles broadly, almost as if in challenge.

I bet she would have been a force to reckon with on the playground.

“Take your shoes off,” Shae murmurs from her spot close behind me. Blinking away from the wall of pictures, I compute what she’s saying and jump into action.

“Sorry,” I reply, toeing off my shoes. “Do you think these will do?” I lift the flowers between us, but I’m mesmerized by the way Shae’s face lights up.

“Yes, they’re beautiful, Storm.” She reaches for the bouquet and our fingers touch. I don’t care if it makes me sound like a complete pussy. When our fingers connect, it feels like the tension I’ve been carrying across the city evaporates.

Inhale.

Exhale.

I can breathe around Shae.

“Hey, hon! You’re right on time.” Shae’s mother approaches me with her arms spread open, and she captures me into a tight hug before I’m able to utter a reply. “I hope you brought your appetite.”

Shae shifts as her mom grabs my arm, squeezing my biceps. The smell of spices registers once Shae’s mother mentions food, and my stomach audibly growls.

“You’ve got that right, Mrs.Rivers,” I reply, trying to keep my voice even.

“Oh, what lovely flowers! Roses, my favorite,” Mrs. Rivers says, rubbing one of the golden petals between her thumb and index finger. After her assessment, she turns back to me with a bright smile.

“I was given some excellent guidance,” I reply, and she gives me a coy smile.

Shae moves toward her mother, looping her arm in hers and putting her head on her mom’s shoulder.

The image does something to me—to my heart. They’re the picture of love, radiant love.

“Well, it’s about time you showed up. Opal, let’s eat.” Further down the hall, Shae’s dad stands with his beefy arms crossed over his chest and his legs spread wide.

Intimidating, as if he were trying to keep himself from mowing me down and kicking my ass up and down the Magnificent Mile.

“Daddy,” Shae stage-whispers, turning to face her father, but Mrs.Rivers makes a soft sound in her throat, stopping her.

Mr.Rivers’ face is hard as stone.

“Thank you for having me over, sir,” I reply, trying to break the tension.

Shae’s father grunts, then ambles to the next room.

“Well,” Mrs.Rivers says, clapping her hands once. “If tonight will be anything, it’ll be entertaining, that’s for sure.”

Shae’s replying smile is more of a grimace.

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