Page 145 of Cross the Line
From the stories she and Eli have told me—the good ones, where they climbed trees and tore across fields—I imagine wild, sassy little versions. Smart, kind, curious, fearless. Maybe they’d have her eyes and smile, that bronze mane that frizzes into curls I can’t stop catching in my fingers. And God help us if they’re as surly as Eli…
“You good?” he asks, chuckling as he smooths down my hair, still on end from the swarm.
“Yeah.” I shake off the vision of mini Finleys with Eli’s scowl. “Are you guys ready?”
They trade shrugs.
Here we go.
CHAPTER 38
ELIJAH
Jayden wasn’t wrong; his familyisrowdy and chaotic. They talk over each other so much that you can’t tell who’s speaking to whom. But in the middle of it all, there’s laughter. So much of it that it becomes perfect.
Any other setting, and I’d have taken Jayden up on his rescue offer. Sure, my head’s a tangled mess with all the noise, but it feels good. I love watching him around his family, and I love how Finley is absolutely entranced by them.
We’ve never had this before.
All the potentially good stuff was reined in in Havenview. Instead, we were constantly watching our backs and keeping our heads down low to go unnoticed. It didn’t work. Our genetics placed us in a spotlight where shame and dishonor were only one blink from damning you.
“Hey, Son, are you sure you don’t want some of Jon’s eggnog?” Jayden’s dad pushes past his uncle and sixteen-year-old cousin with a tray of enamel mugs decorated with glitter, sprinkles, and candy canes. “It’s vegan.”
“Dad, Eli doesn’t drink,” Jayden says, his mouth so full of nougat that it comes out muffled.
“There’s barely any alcohol. The Sire cut it down to a third of the usual?—”
“It’s still alcohol,” Jayden tells him, hopping up on the kitchen counter behind me.
He wraps an arm around my chest, resting his chin on my shoulder while his legs hang down either side of me.
I’m hyper aware of the way his uncle watches us. His gaze lingers when it reaches my hip—right where my hand is clasped over Jayden’s thigh.
“You know, he’s never brought anyone home for Christmas before. Of course he exceeds expectations and brings two people,” the man chuckles, hoisting one of the twins over his shoulder like she’s weightless.
They’re like little monkeys hanging off anyone and everything they can.
The girl protests in a long, dramatic whine that sounds just as vicious in Persian as the scowl twisting her mouth. If Isla has attitude, this one’s made it her entire personality.
“Behave, Kayla,” Jayden’s uncle warns, ending whatever argument they were having in Persian.
Her bright blue eyes turn to me. A devious smirk tugs at the corners of her sulky lips with a purposeful bat of her dark lashes.
Oh shit.She’s like a possessed cherub. Everything about her is cute and mallowy, but butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
“Kayla,” Jayden groans, and when she turns that impish look on him, he answers her in Persian.
My jaw hits the floor.
Fuck… The throaty dialect rakes through me like gravel dipped in honey. The air in my lungs congeals to a hot ball of surprise. Because damn, he sounds so fucking sexy there’s water pooling in my mouth to taste each syllable rolling off his lips.
“Later, okay?” he adds, switching back to English.
Kayla’s face falls. “No. JJ, you promised.”
“Your cousin just told you he’s going to get a game together later with Eli and your brothers,” her dad interjects firmly.
“Fine.” With a huff, she launches herself at my chest. For a second, I freeze—unsure what to do—before she wraps herself around me and shoves Jayden away. “You’re on my team.”
