The Close: Building the Circle, #6

By Maggie M Lily

The Trellis family and their Circle have been preparing. They're not sure for what, but Sam, The Walker, knows something is coming. And now it's here.

The fallout from this conflict will affect more than just the Trellises. It'll affect other empowereds--and it'll affect the wider community of magic users, all of whom have been hiding from the empowered people for centuries. The Trellis family will need to bring all of them together to save the world, and the only way to do that is to learn to be who they truly are.

Especially Luke, the final Trellis singleton. It's time for him to discover what being Peace really means.

This is the final book in the bestselling Building the Circle series of heartwarming paranormal romance novels, but it's not the end of the Trellis family. The Peacekeeper's Harmony series is available now--if you loved Building the Circle, you won't want to miss it!

The Close wraps up the six-book series with HEAs for (almost!) everyone. It features everything you love about Building the Circle: Sunday dinners, puppies, in-jokes, banter, billionaires, and psychic powers. It's also has… shifters?!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maggie M Lily
• Release date: May 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223483632

Book preview

PROLOGUE

A GLOSSARY AND CHARACTER REFERENCE IS AVAILABLE AT THE BACK OF THIS BOOK.

THREE HUNDRED YEARS AGO

The sensation of soft lips brushing against Micah’s mouth woke him from a sound sleep.

I need... Darius’s voice faded from his mind.

Darius? Micah reached for the binding to his love, trying to decipher the fragments of shared thought as he climbed out of bed.

"He tires." Madrid’s thought came to him, louder and clearer than Darius’s.

"I am coming," Micah responded, moving quickly.

Walking into the back courtyard, Micah gasped at the sight of Darius, crumpled on his side at the head of the circle.

You should have called for me sooner, Micah murmured, rushing to help.

Darius blinked, looking around in confusion. Few hours have passed. You must rest as well.

You cannot safely hold the pieces of this circle, Micah chided. Madrid will hold it in stasis when I must sleep. No more of this.

We did fine. Darius smiled up at Micah, his eyes unfocused with fatigue and pain. I would not have her suffer because I am too weak. It is best for her when you are here. But I can help as well. Alone, she wallows in a slow twist of agony—trapped in a draining circle with nowhere for the energy to escape.

Madrid frowned in displeasure from her place in the center of the circle. She made a faint tsk of disapproval.

No, Mother Life. Darius sighed. If this must happen, I will help as I can.

You do us no good if you’re unwell, Micah disagreed, helping the other man to his feet. You have given me a respite. Rest now.

It will soon be over, Darius whispered, tears filling his eyes.

Micah nodded in agreement, not looking at Madrid.

Darius left the courtyard without another word.

He is a sweet man, Madrid spoke into Micah’s mind. "A good balance for you, my stoic warrior."

I would stand as your warrior in truth, Madrid, if you would stay with us. Please reconsider. The world will be darker without you.

"A hundred times you’ve asked me to reconsider. It cannot be, Micah. Josiah is power-hungry, selfish, and dancing on the edge of madness. Things will not move forward as they are. We must tip the balance. You and I must force action."

There are other ways to force action. Your demise will tip him to madness. Micah sighed, trying to hide the pain that came from standing in her draining circle.

"Josiah cannot be defeated unless he is mad. He will be sloppy in madness. As it stands, he is cunning and suspicious. The young ones are not capable of trapping him as he is."

"They are not so young, Madrid—more than two hundred years they’ve stood."

They’re still young and uncorrupted, Micah. They are well-centered and balanced. I will not allow Josiah to destroy them.

Then we will help the Mistress and Walker strip him of power, Micah said reasonably.

"We are," she replied with a small smile. I am tired. It is only a matter of time before he takes what power remains within me for himself. I hold what I do now because Josiah dislikes the feel of life. Over a thousand years, I have been alone. It is time to move on.

Can you control it yet? Can you give up the name? Micah asked.

Madrid’s eyes went unfocused for a moment as she searched her bindings. "I cannot. His hold is still too powerful. I will attempt it, as I promised. I will sacrifice the energy myself if it allows me to do so. I cannot yet do it, though."

Please. Micah’s voice broke with the plea. I don’t want this, Madrid. I will never serve enough penance for this evil.

"Evil? No, Micah. This is a kindness. As Josiah’s hold on my energy loosens, my mind reawakens. I will be myself again before I am gone, and I am thankful. It is past time for me to move on. I’m not part of life anymore."

You are no longer a part of life? What does that mean? His eyes narrowed in confusion.

"I cannot feel it like I should. It denies me."

You’re holding your own draining circle, trying to die. Of course life will not accommodate this.

No.

Micah raised his eyebrows, asking for clarification without words.

Life has shunned me since Evelyn trapped James. It senses her fierce spirit compared to my weakness. I have fulfilled the time I was intended to fill. Nature moves on around me, waiting for a new Mistress.

Micah blinked fast, fighting off sorrow. No. It is just unbalanced since she claimed that victory. Give it time to⁠—

Before he could finish, Madrid’s words cut into his mind. It’s been more than a hundred years. You lose track of time. Enough of this. It must be done. Now, will you tell my sweet girl? Will you tell her what I shared?

Of course I will tell Evelyn.

Promise me.

I promise. I will tell her, Micah vowed with a sigh.

Sit, Madrid commanded. "I will force out what energy I can to lessen what you have to pull from me."

It’s fine, Madrid. Micah sighed again. It causes you pain. I would save you that trouble.

Madrid grinned at him, a full smile of sunshine and happiness. "You’re draining all the power from me until I can be killed. Then I will die, probably by your hand. I imagine it will hurt along the way. Sit."

Please don’t ask this of me, Mother Life, Micah blurted, eyes focused on the ground as panic and dread made his voice tight. It is counter to everything I hold dear. I gave up my pair, circle, and name to protect the life you foster. Please don’t ask this of me. There has to be another way.

"I did not ask it of you. I demanded it of you, she reminded him. There is no one else to do it, Micah. There is no one I would trust with my energy once it is done. And it must be done. You will do this because you know I am right. You will do this because you’re selfless and brave and because I have told you it must be so. Now, sit."

Without another word, Micah sat on the soft grass at the head of the circle that would drain Madrid’s life away. Drawn by her own hand and closed with her energy, it was sealed against all except those she allowed within it.

Sharing her affection and love, Madrid smiled at Micah. "No tears, Warrior. You have watched this cycle before. The energy no longer belongs to me. A new Mistress will rise. You may guard her in my stead."

May God forgive me when this long life of penance is finally finished, Micah muttered to himself.

Penance? No. There is nothing left for you to repent. Redemption has long since been yours if you’d just acknowledge it. She grinned again, trying to share her peace.

ONE

LAST SUNDAY

The sensation of soft lips brushing against Micah’s mouth woke him from a sound sleep.

Micah, Ethan said, shaking him gently.

Lost in the space between dreams and sleep, Micah’s amber eyes drifted open. You’re here.

I should hope so. I live here. Ethan smiled. Are you okay? You were dreaming. It seemed like it was turning into a nightmare.

Micah rubbed his eyes. I haven’t slept that soundly in a long time. How long have you been awake?

Maybe twenty minutes, Ethan replied, brow furrowed in concern.

What time is it?

Either really early or really late, depending on how you feel about three-thirteen a.m. Do you want to talk about it?

It wasn’t a good dream, Micah admitted. Thank you for waking me. I’m sorry I woke you up with it.

Ethan shook his head. I don’t think you woke me up. I woke up on my own and then was laying here reading for a minute when you stirred.

What woke you?

The unfamiliar sensation of a large, sexy dude in my bed. I’m happy to adjust to it. No worries. Ethan grinned.

Micah’s lips twitched up into a small smile.

Do you want to talk about it? Ethan asked again.

Mmm, not really. I was dreaming about the day Madrid and Darius died.

Squeezing Micah’s hand in understanding, Ethan nodded. Okay. We don’t have to talk about it. His eyes went back to his e-reader.

Madrid was Mother Life before Evelyn, Micah blurted out.

Ethan nodded, eyes still on his book. Micah tended to shut down when pressed for information, so Ethan didn’t push.

I killed her.

That’s not what Sam told me, Ethan disagreed, putting down his reader and looking at Micah.

Why would Sam tell you this? When would Sam have told you this? Micah asked, surprised that Ethan would know anything about his past.

"You should know that Sam tells me everything. And I do mean everything, Ethan said, fighting back a smile. He told me a few days after we got home from Dallas, after he found Adaline."

Well, what did he tell you? Micah shifted uncomfortably but avoided fidgeting. Sam’s ability to Walk through time meant that Ethan might know more about the past than Micah would willingly share.

Why are you nervous? Ethan asked, grinning.

I just didn’t know you discussed me.

Still grinning, Ethan watched Micah squirm.

I’m going to take a shower, Micah said after a moment, already climbing out of bed.

You do that. Ethan laughed.

Are you laughing at me? Micah asked, unsure.

Absolutely.

Don’t laugh at me!

Okay. Ethan laughed.

Micah stalked off toward the bathroom.

Ethan picked up his e-reader again.

What exactly did he say? Micah demanded, stomping back into the bedroom.

Why don’t you tell me the story if it bothers you Sam told me the story? Ethan asked, not looking at Micah and not pressing.

Micah groaned. I fucking hate Sam!

Okay.

He’s a pain in the ass!

He really is, Ethan agreed.

He stole my story! Micah bitched. It was the absolute worst thing I’ve ever done. Why would he tell you?! Why would he tell you so long before you really knew me?

Ethan paused, considering. He’s terrible at telling stories. Too much fact, no emotion. So I’m not going to understand it until you explain it.

Hrmph.

I’m sorry, Ethan said, meeting Micah’s eyes. I thought you were uncomfortable about me knowing about past lovers. I misunderstood.

Well, that too, Micah muttered. But less so.

You’ve been alive longer than I can imagine. I would find it concerning if there were no lovers before me, Ethan offered.

Micah nodded, eyes downcast.

Did you really kill her?

Micah exhaled hard as he threw himself back onto the bed next to Ethan. No. I drained her of enough energy to break Josiah’s hold on her mind.

Ethan’s eyebrows shot up. You drained Mother Life?

What did Sam tell you? Micah demanded, climbing to his feet again.

He said she needed to give up the name and couldn’t. You helped her find more of herself. James and Evelyn showed up, killed your husband, and then freaked out when they realized Madrid wanted to let go of the energy.

And?

Ethan shook his head. I told you. He’s terrible at stories. I didn’t catch ‘find more of herself’ meant you drained her.

Micah pressed his lips together, staring at Ethan.

I would tell you if he told me more, Ethan promised.

I know.

They stared at each other in silence for a half dozen heartbeats.

We weren’t married.

Ethan kept staring.

Marriage never would have been tolerated at the time. We told people we were brothers.

Sam said you were together for a long time. Long enough anyone would consider you married.

We were. Two hundred thirty-six years. Micah dropped his eyes.

You must keep track of a lot of dates, Ethan said, trying to distract Micah from his sadness.

Not a lot of dates, but some.

An awkward silence descended again.

I can’t remember the day I took the name of Hatred. I’ve thought it over, but I can only approximate the year. I don’t know my actual birthday. We didn’t track things in the same way. I know the date I broke with my circle and the day my sister died. The day I met Darius and the day he died are still fresh in my mind. And a thousand years from now, I’m certain I’ll know the date when I met you and your family.

Ethan’s lips twitched. Damn well better remember that anniversary.

Micah’s surprised laughter exploded through the room.

I’ll spend the next thousand years nagging if you forget that shit, Ethan warned.

They shared a smile before Micah’s eyes turned downcast.

I didn’t kill her. But I made it possible.

Ethan climbed out of bed, giving up on sleep. Shower time! Then we can decide if we want a super early breakfast or midnight snacks. We can nap before Sunday dinner.

Micah nodded, turning back toward the bathroom.

Are we telling them? My family? Ethan asked. About this? Us?

Micah grinned, genuine amusement touching his eyes as he looked over his shoulder at Ethan. Do you think there’s a way to keep it from them?

No. Ethan laughed. "No, I do not. I just wasn’t sure if you recognized it."

I’m not that stupid. Micah’s grin stayed in place as they headed for the bathroom.

Matthew drifted back to wakefulness, roused by the feel of a hand on his chest.

Are you petting the muscles? he grumbled.

Miranda’s hand froze. I thought you were asleep.

I was.

Oh. Umm... I didn’t mean to wake you.

I know. Matthew’s lips turned up as he scrubbed his hands over his eyes. Are you blushing right now?

Absolutely. She laughed.

Pulling his hands away from his face, he grinned at her. I mean, now that I’m awake, you could aim the petting a little lower.

Oh my God! She whacked him in the face with her pillow.

There, now you’re really blushing!

I’m sorry I woke you. It’s early. The sun isn’t even rising yet.

I’m not sorry to be awake with you. He pulled her closer, kissing her temple. Why are you awake?

We’re moving into the house tomorrow.

I know. You’re sure you’re okay with this? he asked. You don’t have to live with me.

Do you not want me there? I don’t have to live there, she hedged immediately.

Holy hell, I thought you’d never get the hint.

Miranda’s face fell as she climbed quickly out of bed. Yeah, no. I know. I’m sorry. I’ll, um, I’ll talk to Sam.

Matthew cleared his throat, hiding his grin. Babe, we really gotta work on that.

Huh?

I feel like your bullshit meter was better when we were in school. I blame Larry.

Miranda’s eyes darted to Matthew’s face in the darkness. Her eyes narrowed to slits. Are you grinning?

No. Absolutely not. Matthew grinned at her.

That wasn’t funny, Matthew! she whispered-yelled.

He dove across the bed, wrapping his arms around her to drag her back into a prime cuddling position. Miranda, my tone wasn’t even remotely serious. I asked you to live with me. Why in the world would you think I don’t want you there?

Miranda’s mouth opened and closed twice without words escaping.

Randa?

Are you sure? she blurted.

Matthew raised his eyebrows, asking a question without words. Miranda could just barely see the expression with the help of the nightlights.

Are you sure you want to do this? With me? I don’t want you to feel stuck with me.

Matthew sighed, his lips turning up into a sad smile. We need to work on this, too.

Matthew, I’m serious.

I know, he said, tone subdued. That’s why we need to work on this.

She opened her mouth to speak again. Matthew put his index finger over her lips, stopping her. If that’s an apology forming on your lips, it doesn’t get to come out.

Miranda exhaled hard, closing her eyes as tears dripped down the side of her face, into her hair, and onto the pillow.

I love you. I have always loved you. There is no one else I would rather wake up next to in the morning, Randa. The quiet words spoken with sincerity seemed to draw out more sobs.

Miranda turned to bury her face in Matthew’s chest, crying in earnest.

What brought this on? Matthew whispered, running his hand through her tangled hair.

I had such terrible dreams, she gasped.

Adaline rolled over, seeking the warmth of Sam’s body. She wasn’t accustomed to Chicago’s cool temperatures in November, so different from her home in Dallas.

Sam turned toward her, wrapping her in a sleepy cuddle. Okay?

Mmm. She snuggled closer, burying her head in the comfort of his chest. She ran cold fingers up his back, making a chuckle rumble under her cheek.

Well, that wasn’t nice.

She could feel his smile without looking, and she knew his eyes were still closed.

Once her fingers were warmer, her hand drifted lower.

He gasped. Addy, it’s the middle of the night.

I’ll do most of the work if you’re sleepy.

Fingers kneading gently into the muscles of her back, Sam considered how to move forward. After a moment, his own hands drifted.

That’s not what I want, Adaline said, voice suddenly focused and serious.

No sex, Addy. I miss you too, but we agreed⁠—

We did not agree. You stated, and I let it slide until now.

It’s not smart, Sam said, sitting up.

Adaline flicked on the bedside lamp. Are we never to love each other again because of a possible future? We’ll never have children?

That’s not... no, that’s not what I’m suggesting. I just want to be safe, keep you safe. Just until we understand what’s going on. Right now, all we know is things are unbalanced, Jared is up to something, and there’s a very real chance you’ll die, and I’ll destroy everything. Let’s avoid that.

She sighed. There are other ways to avoid making a baby, Sam. I know my body and cycle. I can feel it.

But it’s not worth the risk, Addy. There are other ways to share our love.

Samuel, she growled. I will not have this. Random visions of possible futures will not dictate every element of our lives. We will live. We will celebrate life. I agree planning and precautions are important, and we should avoid unnecessary risks. But we have no idea what we’re facing or on what timeline that future exists. Would you have us spend the next hundred years like this? No. I will not waste another moment trying to avoid something we don’t yet understand.

It didn’t feel like a far-off future, Addy, Sam muttered, not arguing her point.

You have had the dreams your entire life.

Sam fell silent, thinking through how best to explain.

Speak the words, Sam. Even if they’re not right. I know your feelings, Adaline’s thoughts echoed through Sam’s mind.

I cannot lose you. I cannot be me without you, he said.

There is so much of you that exists without me, Sam, she disagreed immediately, anticipating his words. Your family, your friends, those you love. You are a gloriously compassionate person. You do yourself a disservice by discounting all the other people you share your life with.

Addy, they don’t ground me. They don’t understand.

I know. She grinned at him in the dim light. That’s as it should be. I am your love, as you are mine. Companions, partners, and lovers as it should be. Stop neglecting that third aspect.

You would accept the risk? His lips turned up at her teasing, but it wasn’t a smile.

There is risk in all things, Sam. That is life. Avoiding risk does not save us from pain or hardship.

Done with words, her lips met his as she rolled on top of him.

I need this fucking car to sprout wings! Noah yelled in frustration as he pushed the speedometer over a hundred miles per hour.

At three-thirty in the morning, there wasn’t much traffic on the expressway. And, well, if he got pulled over, they could arrest him in front of Tali’s dad. Mike would like that.

Noah spoke the redial command to his Bluetooth again.

"This is Talise. Leave a message."

He hung up, hitting the exit ramp at sixty miles per hour, flying past the sign suggesting less than half his current speed and right through the red light at the vacant intersection.

She’s gonna be pissed if I cause an accident. I hope. I hope she’s able to be pissed, he muttered to himself.

Less than two minutes later, his tires squealed as he turned into the driveway, blocking in Mike’s work truck.

Out of the car, he heard Talise screaming.

TALI! he roared, slamming his fist into the locked front door.

Monica threw the door open before he could knock again. She’s freaking out! What’s happening?

Noah was past her and into the hallway that led to Talise’s bedroom before Tali’s mom could finish the question.

Talise’s dad, Mike, was in her room, trying to restrain and calm her as she tried to rip her nails down her face. Talise! It’s a dream! Wake up, Tali!

Holy fuck, Noah breathed. A dream.

Mike blinked as Noah entered the bedroom. What the fuck are you doing here?

Tali, Noah murmured, scooting her aside to make room for himself and shaking her at the same time. Talise, wake up.

While her thrashing slowed, she continued to yell, still lost to the nightmare.

Noah, why are you here? Mike demanded again.

Scooping her up to rest her head on his leg, Noah began running his fingers through her sweat-soaked hair. She stirred at his touch, no longer screaming but not yet awake. I felt it. I could feel her fear. I thought she was being attacked. I called and called.

Mike looked at the bedside table where Tali’s phone sat. There were twenty-four missed calls. She just started screaming. Maybe two minutes before you showed up. I didn’t see the calls.

Noah nodded, still breathing hard. Her phone doesn’t ring after ten. I know. I didn’t know what else to do. Tali, wake up. With the words, he released a tiny bit of the feel-good energy she so enjoyed.

Don’t do that while I’m right here! Mike yelled.

Then get out of there! Monica snapped at him. This is ridiculous, Michael!

Tali’s eyes were open, focused on Noah.

He exhaled hard. Babe, you scared the ever-living fuck out of me.

Without speaking, she pulled herself upright, wrapping her body around Noah, trying to get all the skin contact she could. Then she sobbed.

Luke startled awake shortly after three a.m. on Sunday morning, unsure what woke him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to identify the source of his unease. Exhaling, he realized the calm well of his peaceful energy was in flux. His chest was tight with anxiety, and his heart raced unevenly. Something was wrong. Something was really wrong.

After climbing out of bed and throwing on sweatpants and a t-shirt, he walked through his apartment. Tidy and uncluttered, the lines of the space felt natural and normal until he approached the guest bathroom. Before he could even see the doorway, he knew something was off. His energy dipped and swayed in his chest.

Rounding the corner and turning on the bathroom light, he was prepared for something truly horrible.

The hand towel was on the floor.

Did I seriously wake up because the hand towel fell? he wondered, putting the towel in the laundry basket and pulling out a clean one. He hung it correctly then straightened it just a bit more.

On his way back to bed, he realized the salt shaker was out of place on the kitchen counter. Not far out of place, but a smidge off.

He thought back to Matthew, dropping off empty moving boxes earlier in the evening.

Asshole, Luke muttered under his breath. He positioned the salt shaker, aligned with the pepper, and now the appropriate space from the olive oil bottle.

Luke climbed back into bed and snuggled down into his comforter. His eyes drifted closed as sleep came back to him. His energy fluctuated again, causing his eyes to spring open.

I JUST KNOW HE MOVED SOMETHING ELSE! he roared, climbing back out of bed to check the kitchen cabinets and refrigerator.

Here, maybe a little carbonation will help, Matilda whispered to Jake, passing him a glass of soda in their bathroom.

Jake dry heaved again, wiping sweat and spit from his face with a cool washcloth.

We had the same thing for dinner last night. I don’t think you have food poisoning, Matty muttered. Maybe flu?

I don’t feel sick. Just overheated and pukey, he groaned.

Well, warm makes sense. You’re burning up. Matty nodded. I think puke plus fever equals sick, Jake.

It doesn’t feel like it, though.

I called Adrian.

Jake sighed.

Don’t sigh.

Too late. Jake tried to smile at her.

He said to drink what you can, even if it comes back up. This will run its course. He’ll come to check on you before dinner.

Jake nodded, gagging again.

TWO

Lucy and Adrian were the first to arrive for Sunday dinner with Linda and Ree in tow.

Wow, Adrian said, looking at Matthew and Miranda sitting alone in the big room. Where is everyone? We’re not early.

Don’t look at me, Matthew said. We were on time.

Adrian smiled. Yes, but you live here right now.

Doesn’t change the fact we beat you here. Matthew grinned.

Hank laughed, coming down the hallway from the kitchen. You’re moving out tomorrow. We were just starting to wonder where everyone was. Did you check on Jake?

Adrian nodded. Yep, he’s feeling better. No fever and no nausea. He must have had a bad beer or something. He slept for a little bit this morning and then woke up fine. They’re coming for dinner. I don’t think there are any germs to spread.

Well, okay. Start calling everyone else. Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. Your mother’s going to be angry if everyone is late.

Ha! Adrian cheered. Default favorite this week!

Hank rolled his eyes. Matthew cleaned the bathrooms, and Miranda chopped vegetables for your mother. I think you lost the competition before it even began.

Cheaters. Adrian grinned at his little brother. Are you ready to get moved out of here?

There’s not much to move, Miranda murmured. Just about everything but the cast iron cookware was destroyed in the house fire.

It was just stuff, Matthew soothed, shooting Adrian a warning glance.

Hank and Adrian shared a concerned look before studying Miranda.

Sweetheart— Hank began.

Roscoe! Glinda! William yelled, greeting the dogs as he came in the front door with his wife, Emma.

Wow. Where is everyone? Will asked.

Exactly, Hank replied, distracted from his train of thought. Jake and Matty are accounted for. Sam and Addy are always last. Start calling everyone else.

Sorry we’re late, Ava called as she opened the front door.

Oh, Jess said, coming around the corner into the big room with her husband and girls. Maybe we’re not late. Where is⁠—?

Roscoe! Ethan howled with the dog, coming through the door with Micah. Glinda’s such a good girl, huh good girl, he cooed to the puppy.

Jess gasped, eying Ethan and Micah. Together at last.

YAY! she yelled, leaping up to hug them as one. Yay! Now it’s perfect. Yay!

Honey, Hank yelled down the hallway to Darla, grinning. They figured it out. Luke and Linda are the only ones left!

You owe me ten bucks! Darla yelled back.

Uh, Hank? Linda asked, eyes shifting uncomfortably around the room as she fidgeted with her fingers.

Lucy grinned.

We know, sweetheart. Hank nodded. That’s not the way I meant it.

Oh, good. Linda sighed in relief as Lucy cackled.

Huh? No Luke? Why no Luke? Adrian asked, frowning. He’s great.

He is! Linda agreed immediately. Really great. Great friend. I’m not in that headspace. Not even a little bit.

Well, I understand not being interested in dating right now, Adrian agreed. But maybe down the road...

Linda was shaking her head.

Why not? Adrian asked, sounding sad. I thought you two might be a thing.

He’s great. Really great, Adrian. I’m not saying otherwise, Linda said quickly. He’s just not my type. He’s very...

Hipster-chic, well balanced, and organized, Lucy filled in for her foster sister.

I was going to say innocent, Linda offered. I’d be a corrupting influence.

Lucy smirked at Adrian.

Fair. Matthew grinned. He’s quite the Pollyanna.

None of those are bad things, Adrian muttered.

Lucy grinned again. He’s just not the kind of guy she’d normally go for. He wears suspenders as a fashion statement, for crap’s sake. Leave her alone.

Where are the love birds? Sam yelled, coming in the front door with Adaline. Grinning like a fool, he charged Ethan with a hug then laughed when Micah bodily picked him up and threw him