Cruel Legacy (Cruel 3)

We pulled up into the driveway of my parents’ two-story yellow Charleston-style home with the colonial columns and balconies on both floors. While it looked large, I knew that looks could be deceiving. I’d spent four years of high school in this little house, but Melanie had basically grown up in it. I knew it would always feel more like home to her than me.

But there she was, waiting to greet us on the porch. She vaulted down the stairs in her heels and miniskirt and straight to my car door. I was barely out of the passenger seat when she squeezed me around the middle.

“You made it!”

I beamed like a fool. “Sure did. And I brought a friend.”

Penn stepped out of the backseat. “Hey, Mel.”

“Friend or boyfriend?” Melanie teased.

“Boyfriend,” Penn confirmed.

Melanie shrieked in excitement and attacked Penn. I just shook my head and grabbed my messenger bag.

“Good to see you, too.” Penn patted her back twice before extracting himself. “Let me get the bags, Amy.”

“Aww, a gentleman,” Amy teased. She passed Penn his suitcase and then my bag. “Okay, kids. As much as I want to stay and hang, it’s late, and I have to open the gallery in the morning.”

“Such an adult,” I joked.

“Hey, one of us needs a real job.”

“What’s that?” I asked, poking her in the ribs.

“I hope you’re writing up there,” Amy said. She tugged me in for a hug. “Because, otherwise, I guess good dick is a decent enough reason.”

I cackled and released her. “You’re the best ever.”

“Don’t I know it. See you tomorrow for the party,” Amy said. She waved at Melanie. “Congrats, Mel! Hope you’re not knocked up.”

Melanie’s face turned bright red. “Oh my god, I’m not!”

I giggled. “I mean, you can’t blame her for asking.”

“Why did I even invite y’all?” Melanie grumbled before grabbing a bag and helping Penn with it up the stairs.

“Better go rescue him before my dad meets him.”

Amy scrunched up her nose. “I think it’s too late.”

“Oh boy.”

“Good luck with that.”

I waved good-bye and hurried into the house to where Penn was currently introducing himself to my father. Penn had straightened to his considerable height and was currently shaking my dad’s hand.

“Daddy,” I said, peeking around the corner. “Oh good, you met Penn. Let’s get you inside.”

He made a disgruntled noise like he was about to say something about the fact that he owned a gun—it wouldn’t be the first time—but I ushered everyone back inside. My father had served more than twenty years in the military and was now a local cop. He’d had a gun in his hand most of his life. And he liked to intimidate every guy who walked into our house. Poor Mel had had it worse than I ever had since our dad still hated Michael despite practically helping raise him. I knew better than to bring guys home.

My mother was standing in the living room, looking like a straight ray of sunshine in the most outrageously wonderful hippie clothes. “Hello, and welcome!” she said. “You must be Penn. I’m Natasha, and I see you’ve already met my husband, James. We’re thrilled that you’re here.”

My dad grunted behind Penn.

Penn put on the charm and hugged my mother, who beamed at the approach. “It’s so good to meet you. I have heard so much about you. I’d love to see your shop.”

“Oh dear, I knew that you’d be as slick as a snake. I cannot believe that you’re a summer solstice baby. You have all the makings of a Sagittarius.” She waved her hand. “No matter. We’ll read tarot later and figure it all out.”

Penn smiled at her in a bemused way. “Looking forward to that.”

“Excellent. Have you ever had tarot read?”

“Mom,” I groaned.

“I haven’t. First time for everything,” Penn said amicably.

“Natasha, don’t bother him with that stuff,” my dad said.

“I’ll have you know, philosophy has the same roots as the mystic arts,” my mom said with a sly smile. She winked at me. “He has a good aura.”

I shook my head and just let it happen. I’d prepared Penn as best I could. My mother, the dreamer songbird, who ran an apothecary shop and read tea leaves and tarot and the stars and anything that predicted the future. My father, the strict religious military man, who must have married her out of love because how else could it have worked?

“It’s late,” Melanie said. “I’m going to go back to the dorm. I just wanted to be here to say hi. You’ll meet Michael tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it,” Penn said.

“Are you?” I grumbled.

He shot me a look that said, Behave.

“Nat, please, please, please don’t bring the stuff up from last year. Michael gets really uncomfortable about it all. I want this to all go smoothly.”

“I won’t bring it up. I’m here for you.”