Smiling, she lifted a photo from the nightstand. A much younger Jack stared back at her, next to a little girl who couldn’t be any older than three. Jack looked so carefree, grinning as he clung to the girl. He didn’t have any kids of his own, so the girl had to be a relative. She was adorable, with a head full of brown corkscrew curls and a light dusting of freckles over her caramel-toned cheeks. Large, round eyes peeped out from a cherub’s face—the perfect hazel blend of brown and green.
So, they must have made it to New York. The last thing she remembered was being attacked by demons mid-flight before her instincts had taken over. She remembered very little beyond the blackness that always clouded her vision when she became angry. She realized now that it came along with the surge of power that tingled on the surface of her skin. Instead of trying to repress it like she always did, she had reveled in it, drawn on it, unleashed it. Her recollection of the event amounted to a blur of images, but one clear theme remained—death and destruction.
It was for a good reason, she reminded herself as she set the photo of Jack and the little girl aside. Reniel had needed help fighting the demons off, and she had interceded. These weren’t people she’d hurt, but demons that delighted in causing pain and sadness. Remembering that made her wish she could go back and kick their asses again.
The door to the room flew open all of a sudden, jolting her out of her thoughts. She gave a timid smile as Jack appeared in the doorway … at least, she’d thought him Jack. As the man stepped into the light of the lamp, she realized she stood face to face with Jackson Bennett, Sr. He looked so like Jack, it felt uncanny—the same smooth dark skin, gunmetal gray eyes, and long, lean figure with just the right amount of muscle. The longer she stared at him, though, the easier it became to see the differences.
Jackson, Sr. had a bit of gray going at his temples, with the face of a man who’d seen and done a lot. Remembering that Jack had mentioned his father’s past military service, Addison knew she stood in the presence of a man experienced in the ways of war—in both the Earth realm and the spiritual.
“You must be Addison,” he said, his voice a deep, smooth baritone tinged with the same Yankee accent of his son. “I’m his dad, by the way. You can call me Jackson.”
Addison came forward and took his offered hand. His fingers clutched hers and he shook with a firm grip.
“I can tell.” She hoped he couldn’t hear how nervous she was. For that matter, she couldn’t figure out why meeting Jack’s dad would be so intimidating. Outside that door were even more of the people Jack knew and loved. It made her heart gallop a bit in her chest. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I hope you don’t mind that Jack put you in here,” he said, placing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “When you all arrived, you were still out cold and we weren’t sure when you’d wake up. He wanted you to be comfortable.”
“I appreciate it,” she murmured, peering through the cracked window blinds and out into the night. “How long has it been? A few hours?”
Jackson jerked at the collar of his shirt and cleared his throat. “Um … more than a few. More like twenty-four.”
Her jaw dropped. “I slept for twenty-four hours?”
He nodded. “Reniel told me what happened. I can remember when Elian—uh, he’s the Naphil kid I guarded for my first assignment—exerted too much power for the first time. But he’d been using telepathy and telekinesis since the age of six, and from what I hear, you’re kind of new to it. If you don’t take it slow at first, it can take a lot out of you. Elian would sleep for hours, too, after manifesting a new ability. For you … well, you did a lot in one encounter. Your body needed to recharge.”
She ran a hand through her disheveled hair and sighed. “Wow. This is all going to take some getting used to.”
Jackson smiled; it carried the same devastating potency as when his son did it. These men were certainly blessed with some good genes.
“I remember being new to it all. It’s overwhelming at first, but after a while, it just becomes a part of your life.”
“For now, it just feels like a weird dream,” she admitted. “But Jack has been a huge help to me. You raised quite a son.”
“Thank you,” he replied, beaming with pride. “Anyway, I was just peeking in to see if you were still asleep, but since you’re up, I’m sure you’re hungry.”
She nodded. “Starving.”
“Great. There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall if you need it. Everyone’s downstairs and the ladies are just finishing up dinner, so you woke up right on time.”
“That sounds good, thank you.”
Jackson left, closing the door behind him. Addison glanced down to find the bag she’d packed resting on the floor at the foot of the bed. Taking it up, she left the room and went in search of the bathroom. The low hum of voices and the tantalizing aroma of food drifted toward her from downstairs, but she refused to go down until she’d freshened up. A shower would be a must, and she wanted to at least run a comb through her hair.
Her sore muscles relaxed a bit beneath the hot spray, and she took her time bathing and washing her hair. Wrapped in a towel with her hair hanging down her back, she studied the contents of her bag, at a loss as to what to wear when meeting Jack’s family. She wanted to tell herself it didn’t matter what she looked like; that meeting them wasn’t a big deal. Yet, she couldn’t decide between the few things she’d packed and nothing seemed nice enough. Her shorts were too short to wear when meeting someone’s mother, so they were out. Her only clean pair of jeans were worn and faded, but comfortable, which was why she’d been saving them to wear on the plane along with her most comfortable sweatshirt. The clothes she’d just taken off had been splattered with demon blood and she’d slept in them for twenty-four hours.
Which left one other option. She had packed the yellow maxi dress on a whim, and hadn’t given the selection much thought as the last thing she’d thrown in after pajamas, her shorts and jeans, a few tops, underwear, a bra, a pair of flip flops, her toothbrush, soap, shampoo, and a comb. She’d worn the simple dress once, but it flattered her coloring. She wondered for a moment if it would be too much, but then pushed the thought aside and slipped into the dress. It had been a while since she’d felt feminine and pretty; not just like a sexual object to be gawked at. That was why she’d purchased the dress in the first place—because it made her feel like a lady instead of a stripper.
After towel-drying her hair as best she could, she settled on leaving it in a braid hanging over one shoulder. It was the best she could do without a blow dryer. In the side pocket of her bag, she found an old tube of peach-tinted lip gloss she hadn’t worn in ages. Finding it still good when she opened the tube, she dabbed some on her lips before shoving the rest of her stuff back into her bag and leaving the bathroom. She stashed the bag back in Jack’s old bedroom, then made her way down the narrow staircase at a meandering pace.
The first floor of what must be a city townhouse was warm and cozy, clean and charming, decorated in shades of cool green, ivory, and dark brown. Photos were everywhere—on the walls, the mantle, table surfaces. At the foot of the stairs, the ground level opened up into a large living room which sprawled to her left, then a dining room and kitchen where everyone had gathered to her right. She passed a photo of Jack in a cap and gown, hanging on the wall next to his high school diploma, and another photo of him in a basketball jersey and shorts with a medal around his neck as she made her way toward the tangle of voices pulling her nearer to the kitchen.
She found so many people and voices that, at first, she found it hard to make sense of it all. Two middle-aged women stood in the kitchen, between a high, long counter, laying out various dishes and bowls full of steaming food. They laughed and whispered together like old friends, or even sisters. One seemed petite and downright mousy, with a short mahogany brown bob enhanced with amber highlights. The other looked like an Amazon of a woman—curvaceous and tall, with a thick mass of black hair pulle
d into a messy topknot. On the other side of the counter sprawled a dining room with a long table set for eight. Crowded around it were Jackson, Sr., Jack, Micah, Reniel, and an elderly black woman with a sleek, salt and pepper hairdo, the little girl from the photo upstairs—much older now—a teenage boy with dark features and a frizzy black Afro, and a dark-skinned man almost as tall and broad as Reniel and Micah.
The little girl giggled and swatted at Jack, who kept poking the back of her neck with his fork every time she looked away. He chuckled as she took up her own fork and engaged him in a duel. Micah had a deck of cards in his hands, and from where Addison stood, seemed to be showing Jackson, Sr. and the dark man beside him a card trick. The teen with the Afro appeared oblivious to everything around him as his thumbs tapped over the touchscreen of his cellphone. Reniel sat engaged in silent conversation with the older woman, who she guessed had to be Jack’s great-grandmother. He clutched one of her slender hands in both of his large ones, his expression soft as they chatted.
“Oh, you’re awake.” The Amazon woman turned toward Addison with a wide smile, her voice thick with a Puerto Rican accent. “Don’t just stand there, come sit down. Micah!” The Cajun glanced up from what he was doing, raising his eyebrows as he found Addison standing in the kitchen. “I know you Southern boys don’t mind giving up a seat for a lady. Move it or lose it.”
Micah rolled his shoulders as he rose from his seat. Grabbing his beer bottle from the table, he swiped up the cards with his free hand. “That’s no lady, Missus Rodriguez. That there is a dad-blamed peekon … you often find them jabbing you in the sides and making all kinds of trouble.”
Hand on hip, Addison pursed her lips at Micah and shook her head. “Nice to see you, too, Micah,” she replied, rolling her eyes. She had come to realize his veiled insults were just his way when it came to her. It almost felt like the ribbing of a big brother.
Micah flashed a grin at her as he slid a barstool away from the counter and placed it in the corner of the dining room. He perched there, leaning against the wall and resting his bottle on one knee. “Glad to see you up and about, cher,” he mumbled, taking a swig.
Jack had stood when he heard her voice, and now approached her from the dining room. “Hey,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her as he entered the kitchen.
Addison’s skin grew warm from his perusal. The look on his face made her glad she’d worn the dress.
“We were starting to get worried, but it looks like that long sleep did you some good.”
She smiled, hit by a sudden wave of shyness. It was the way his eyes seemed to strip her bare. They were also surrounded by everyone he cared about in the world, and she found herself here, too. She experienced the feeling of hope again, making her all too aware of the fact that she was falling for Jack.
“I feel great,” she said, speaking the truth. After the hot shower, she felt less sore, and the long sleep had rejuvenated her. Once her belly got full, she would be more than content. “Sorry for scaring you.”
“No need to apologize.” One of his hands grasped her arm at the elbow in a light but firm grip. “That was amazing, what you did up there.”
She shrugged. “I figured the time had come to start making myself useful around here.”
“You’ve done more than enough for now,” said the small brunette from Jack’s side.
She barely came up to his chest, but Addison could see this woman should not be defined by her size. Despite her unassuming face and small stature, she had presence.
“There will be many occasions for you to do your part for the cause of Heaven. For tonight, we want you to relax, eat, and forget about all that.” She smiled up at Addison and offered her a pristine white dinner plate. “I’m Jack’s stepmother, Sarah. And since you’re our guest, you get to hit the buffet line first.”
Addison couldn’t help but return the woman’s smile. So this was the angel who had helped raise Jack. Unlike Reniel, whose human form looked akin to a Greek god’s, Sarah looked like any soccer mom in the grocery store, with nothing intimidating about her.
“Thank you,” she answered. “Everything smells wonderful.”
“Well, with so many guys around, we have to make a lot of food, and variety doesn’t hurt,” the woman Micah had called Mrs. Rodriguez said as she came forward with a fistful of serving spoons. She left one in each dish, then stepped aside. “You can call me Carmen, by the way. We’re just glad to be able to add another chica to our little family, right, girls?”
“Oh, yeah,” Sarah mumbled as Addison edged toward the long counter.
She gaped at the spread with wide eyes, unsure of where to begin. She’d never been to a big, family-style gathering like this. There had never been this much food at her house, either … or this much laughter and warmth, for that matter.
“I don’t mind,” the little girl with the bouncy, golden brown curls said. “Micah, you should come sit by me.”
“Cassandra,” Jackson, Sr. added, a warning tone to his voice.
The girl ignored him and continued making moon eyes at Micah, obviously enamored with him. The little toddler in the picture had grown into a pretty girl of about eleven or twelve, her hair a thick mass of curls hanging down her back, her freckles now dotting defined cheekbones. She must be Jack’s little sister.
Micah gave Cassandra a lazy, charming grin. “Now, you know we can’t go making all the other couples jealous, cherie.”
Cassandra giggled. “Right. I forgot.”
Micah winked at her and crossed one leg over the other. “You’re still my best girl, Cassie.”
Addison couldn’t help a giggle at the exchange. Micah could be sweet when he wanted to be; he’d proved that by capturing the heart of Cassandra.
Once Addison’s plate had been filled with an assortment of foods, the others stood and took their places in line. Before long, they all sat around the table with full plates. Micah, Jackson, Sr., and Reniel had taken barstools against the wall to give up seats for Addison, Sarah, and Carmen. Addison sat sandwiched between Jack and the sullen, brooding teenager with the Afro.
“This is Nathan, my husband,” Carmen told her, indicated the large, dark-skinned man seated beside her. “And this is our son, Elian,” she added indicating the boy.
Addison could see it now, the brown skin tone a perfect blend of both parents, the dark brown eyes the same hue as Nathan’s.
“So, you’re the Naphil I’ve heard so much about, then,” Addison said to Elian as she dug her fork into the creamy macaroni and cheese on her plate.
Elian nodded, his mouth full of fried chicken. He swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Dad used to be an angel,” he said in a voice that had already been deepened by puberty. Addison could see a bit of dark fuzz on his chin, too … Elian stood on the verge of manhood. “Mom’s an Oracle.”
“So is my grandmother, Vivian,” Jackson, Sr. said from his perch on the barstool. Balancing his plate on his lap, he indicated the woman seated at the head of the table.
Addison stared at her with curiosity. It seemed impossible to determine her age, though Addison knew she couldn’t be younger than eighty. Though her deep mocha skin was lined with age, a clarity lingered in her vibrant, dark eyes that spoke of a young soul. She was reed slender, with sharp features and vibrant red lips that matched her polished nails.
“I am Vivian Bennett, dear,” she said in a smooth, soulful voice that made Addison want to sit on the floor and lay her head in this woman’s lap. Why couldn’t she have had a grandmother like this? Her Nana had been a hard woman; not mean, but not affectionate or warm, either. “I look forward to getting to know you.”
“You, too, ma’am,” Addison said.
Vivian gave her an encouraging smile that immediately put her at ease. The group ate in silence for a little while, and Addison discovered she was surrounded by people who could cook. Vivian had fried the chicken and baked cornbread from scratch, while Sarah, Carmen, and Micah had made everything else t
o accompany it. Everything tasted so good; she lost herself in filling her stomach for a while and soaking everything in. All the people here seemed so comfortable with each other. Addison didn’t know how to process it. Jackson, Sr. talked to Jack and Micah about their last couple of Guardian missions, while Sarah and Carmen chatted about Cassandra’s upcoming cello recital and Elian’s impending senior year of high school. Nathan, who had seemed dark and brooding at first glance, lit up like a Christmas tree—laughing and smiling as he and Reniel swapped stories about their days as warrior angels. Vivian admonished the guys for being messy, praised Cassandra for her table manners, and complimented Sarah on her delicious green beans. A sense of genuine harmony seemed ingrained.
“You all seem so close,” Addison said after a while, bringing the attention of the entire room back to her. She shifted, uncomfortable under their probing gazes, and shrugged. “I mean, my family isn’t anything like this and … well, only some of you are related. I just wonder … how did you get so close?”
“Father,” Sarah answered, a small smile edging her lips. From the barstool behind her, Jackson, Sr. reached over the back of her chair and clasped her shoulder in an affectionate motion. Throughout the entire meal, the two had been stealing glances at each other, touching every chance they got—like they couldn’t stand to be separated even for a second. It appeared clear they were crazy about each other, even after close to two decades of marriage. Nathan and Carmen were just as bad.
“Everything happens for a reason, Addison,” Sarah continued, placing one hand over Jackson’s on her shoulder. “I was a messenger angel who had no concept of compassion for humans. I didn’t understand their ways or their emotions, and I did not want to. It wasn’t until I met Jackson that I understood what it was like to truly be human. To feel things, to love people, to lose them, to hurt and feel pain. When I opened my heart to him, it also exposed me to love.”
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