Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3)(83)

The two looked so much alike, I was almost taken aback. Her hair and eyes were just as dark as Lyrik’s.

Lyrik wrapped his free hand around my waist and tugged me against him. “Blue…meet my little sister, Mia. She’s kind of a pain in the ass, but I like her okay, I guess.”

Obviously, the taunt was meant for her.

She was laughing and shaking her head as she walked forward, and I was thanking God for her welcoming smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mia,” I said, unwinding myself from Lyrik’s hold. Bits of that old insecurity kept making their play, putting myself on the line this way, wondering just what in the world I was really doing here.

“The pleasure’s all mine. It’s nice to see someone who can put up with this ass for more than three seconds.”

She wrapped both her arms around Lyrik’s waist and placed her head on his chest. Everything between them went soft as he drew her into a hug while he still held her daughter in the other arm.

“I missed you so much. Don’t stay away so long next time,” she said

Um.

Wow.

This I was not expecting.

Unease had me shifting my feet.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Promise.”

She pulled back. “You better get inside. Mom’s about to have an aneurysm she’s so excited to see you. She’s baked the whole damned kitchen and I couldn’t say for certain, but I’m pretty sure she knitted you a new pair of underwear or two.”

“Underwear?” Penny drew out, like it was the craziest thing she’d ever heard.

Lyrik busted out laughing. “Wouldn’t put it past her.”

When his sister released him, Lyrik stretched his hand out for me. “Come on, I want you to meet my mom and dad.”

I could almost feel the heat of Mia’s gaze, the curiosity as her eyes flicked between my face and our entwined hands. Her intensity quite possibly as distinct as her brother’s. But different. Warmer and without the old bitterness that seemed to be the fuel to his fire.

Still carrying Penny, Lyrik dragged me the rest of the way up the sidewalk, up the one concrete stair to the door, calling “I’m home” as we stepped through it.

Inside, I froze.

Oh my God.

I felt as if I’d stepped into an alternate universe. Kind of like the day I’d forced my way into Lyrik’s apartment uninvited and found him covered in frosting. But this was tenfold.

Hell, probably a hundred.

Memories of my grandmother’s house didn’t come close to competing with this, and I was sure she’d never gotten rid of one thing she’d collected throughout her entire life.

Sugar and spice hovered in the air—no question the bearing of fresh cinnamon rolls in the oven—the smell so thick I could almost see the scented waves wafting down the hall from the kitchen. Pictures covered every inch of the walls, and every shelf and table was cluttered with knickknacks and artifacts. Crocheted doilies covered the tops of the antique wooden furniture and a colorful afghan was thrown on the back of the couch.

Not one single thing matched.

Make it if you want it to matter.

Adding to the mayhem was the mess of toys strewn across the living room floor, a pop-up princess castle in one corner and a pile of huge pastel blocks in the other.

A man who’d been sitting in an old recliner across from the TV, one who without a doubt was Lyrik’s father, climbed to his feet. “Lyrik…there’s my boy. Glad to see you’re back.”

Releasing my hand, Lyrik met him halfway, gave him a shake of the hand and a clap to the back. The man grinned when he pulled away. “Of course, most of it has to do with the fact your mom is about to drive me out of my ever-lovin’ mind with her primping and puttering, thinking she has to get things ready for her own son to come home for a visit.”

“Not for him, Karl…for his guest,” the voice hollered from down the hall.

Redness crawled up my neck and heated my cheeks.

Blushing again.

What had I gotten myself into?

“I’m Tamar,” I said, shoving my hand out toward him, praying for even a piece of Tamar King to show.

“Hey…I ’fought your name was Bwue?” Penny demanded.

My attention shot to her. Maybe it was from the tension and strain. Maybe it was from the uncertainty and the questions that had swirled around this whole trip. But I broke out laughing like some kind of crazed lunatic when I saw the confusion on the little girl’s too-pretty face.

Too pretty like her uncle’s and too pretty like her momma’s.

Good God, it wasn’t Karl who’d lost his ever-lovin’ mind.

If I was worried what they’d think of me before, now they had plenty of arsenal to think I was nuts.

Insane.

But I’d been feeling that way since the moment Lyrik stepped into my life.

Like his weight had caused a shift in my axis.

Ever since, I’d been out of touch with what I’d fought to maintain as my reality.

Lyrik’s dad started laughing, too, and instead of returning my handshake, he hugged me. “We’re really glad to have you. My name’s Karl, in case you didn’t hear my woman hollering from the kitchen.”

I laughed a little more around the emotion clogged in my chest.