back door of the car. "I did, and I might have even ordered an extra side of them to bring with me."
There wasn't much about my mom that wasn't exactly like me when it came to taste, so I knew she’d be over the moon with the treat. The biggest difference between the two of us was my temper. That, I got from my father, who was barreling his way toward us from the front porch.
After I handed Mom the food, she and Jordan talked about the weather of all things, while I made my way to meet my dad in the middle. He was a gruff man, but more like a teddy bear whenever he was around people he actually liked.
"Hey, sweet girl. Happy birthday," he whispered in my ear as he picked me up off the ground.
"Thanks, Dad," I replied after he set me back down and I could breathe a little easier.
My dad had blue eyes the same shade as my mom’s, but his skin was naturally tanned while my mom’s was fair. Mine was the perfect mix of both. The same thing happened with our hair. Mom was a natural brunette who never greyed, and Dad was a blondie, so I ended up with dark brown strands that had natural highlights thrown in.
As the four of us moved inside the house, I took several deep inhales of the outdoors: pine, sugar, and water. I knew it seemed weird to smell water, but ever since I met Stryx and my training began, my senses had been heightened, including the ability to smell any type of moisture in the air.
I didn’t focus too long on the outside scents, as they were quickly overpowered by the aroma coming from the kitchen. "Are you making sweet meatballs?" I asked my mom.
"Of course, I am. It's your birthday, and I didn't need to ask to know what you'd want for dinner."
Her homemade meatballs were my death-row meal, that final meal I would ask for if the occasion ever arose.
Ha! When I really thought about it, I was getting my final meal. Part of me wondered if that was a twisted joke on my mom's part, because she always glared at me when I called her meatballs my death-row choice. Probably not, though. She was too sweet for a devious plan like that. Jordan may have subconsciously suggested it, though, and it wouldn’t surprise me in the least.
"Why don't you girls have a seat in the living room while your father and I go get some snacks?" Mom suggested.
"Sure thing, Daliah," Jordan answered before tugging me along.
Dad's shoulders tensed as Mom drug him from the room.
"Do you think they’re fighting? What if they’re not happy together anymore?" I feigned panic when we both noticed the obvious tension.
Pretending things seemed worse to Jordan was just payback for the hell I went through after learning I wasn't who I thought I was, from a freaking owl of all things.
Jordan choked on the water she'd just drank, then spit it all over her lap. "Excuse me? Why on earth would you think that?"
"They seem really stressed. Actually, all of you do. Do you know something? Is this some sort of last family meal before you all break the big news to me?" My voice rose, and I coughed to cover my laughter as Jordan became increasingly nervous.
"Kali, what the hell is coming over you? Your parents are the two happiest married people I've ever met. They're life goals. Maybe they're just anxious about your gift. Yeah, that has to be it."
My brow raised. "My gift, huh? Do you know anything about that?"
She muttered a few curse words under her breath. "Daliah, Brooks! Are you two almost done in there?" She paused. "What's that? You need help? Gladly."
Jordan raced from the room before I could say anything else, and a smirk tugged at my lips. Maybe I was taking it too far, but all of the build-up from the last year was coming to the surface. This was it. There were going to be no more secrets, or so I hoped, and I wanted to move on to my new life without animosity. Giving them grief was the only way I knew how to move past everything.
Just a few minutes later, I could hear raised voices. They were attempting to be quiet and therefore still muffled, but I didn't mind. I knew their secrets. I was merely interested in how and when they were going to