the first floor, I look to the left to find the living room that’s filled with desks for homeschooling. I then look right for the dining room and find Jesse sitting at the long wooden picnic table. Long enough that it easily sits ten people. Jesse feasts on a bowl of soup and a hunk of homemade bread. My stomach rumbles, and Jesse looks up as if he heard it.
“Hey, V.”
I hand back his phone. “Dad said he’s sorry he made you find me.”
“No worries. It would help if someone actually used his phone.” He gives a side-eye to Nazareth who is in a chair in the middle of the kitchen.
In jeans, Nazareth has his shirt off and his mother buzz cuts the sides of his hair. There is a new tattoo on his muscled chest, and I’m curious what the significance of that one is. But odds are he won’t spill. Something haunts Nazareth and not something kind like my mom. Even with a demon who hounds him, he’s still the gentlest person I know.
Nazareth raises an eyebrow at Jesse’s comment then lifts the right side of his mouth.
“I’m not a hypocrite,” Jesse mutters, and I laugh. Jesse is also terrible at answering his texts.
As his mother continues to trim his hair, Nazareth cradles a baby rabbit in his arms and is feeding it with a syringe. The sight warms my heart. There’s no one else in the world who loves the world around him as he does. “Where did you find this one?”
“In Jesse’s field,” Nazareth says, and I look over to Jesse for him to finish the story as Nazareth isn’t into filling in blanks.
Jesse puts down his spoon to butter a slice of bread. “He heard the cries and found it. It looks like a coyote got ahold of the mom and the rest of the litter. Besides being scared, this one seemed untouched.”
In the high chair, Nazareth’s little sister, Ziva, bangs her tiny fingers against the tray and squeals. She’s a cutie with her mother’s nose and smile, and like the rest of her full brothers and sisters, she has her father’s Chinese features. Jin obviously isn’t Nazareth’s biological father, but they love each other as if they were flesh and blood.
Greer sets down the clippers on the island in the kitchen, hands Ziva a sippy cup, then heads to the stove. I love this home. With the rustic feel, tons of plants and herbs living in pots on the shelves and hanging from the ceiling to dry, this place is warm and welcoming.
Nazareth’s mom walks back toward the picnic table, places a bowl of chicken soup on the table across from Jesse as well as several slices of bread so hot it has steam. She settles her authoritative yet kind gaze on me. “Can you eat?”
“Yes.”
“Then sit and eat, and I expect you to eat it all. You need some good food in you instead of that frozen stuff you always eat. It’s a wonder you all don’t have migraines with the amount of preservatives you put in your bodies on a daily basis.” She tilts her head as she examines me. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
Greer is beautiful. There are no other words to describe her. Even with her chestnut hair in a ponytail, even in worn jeans and a blue T-shirt that has a spit-up stain on the shoulder, even with no makeup—she’s movie-star gorgeous.
“Better.” My favorite non-answer. “Thank you for the food.”
“You’re welcome.”
I sit like she commanded, and the first bite of the homemade soup is like heaven. Anything Greer makes is from scratch and typically grown on this farm—meat included.
Nazareth is the oldest of seven children living in a three-bedroom farmhouse. If he didn’t have so many siblings, Jesse and I would live here. Literally. Well, then again, maybe not. Neither Jesse nor I want to live with Nazareth’s mom. She’s great, but a little overzealous in her homeopathic beliefs. Plus, on the scale that includes Tarzshay to designer, Nazareth’s parents would be considered dollar-store drug dealers.
They don’t grow an exuberant amount of pot, nor do they sell to many people. They only sell to people like me, for medical reasons (since I’m considered family, I’m never charged). Then they also grow stuff for themselves that has a bit of a kick.
If maybe Nazareth only had three siblings, we’d be here every night for dinner, but there are nine people in this family living in this small house so we