The Road That Leads to Us (Us 1)

When I stepped up beside her my hand fell to her waist and she leaned slightly into my body before smiling up at me.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Her uncle Mathias glared at the two of us. “What is this?” He stared at my hand like it was a poisonous snake wrapped around her waist.

Willow laughed softly under my breath. “You mean my dad didn’t bitch about this to you?”

“Hey!” Maddox cried, looking wounded. “I take offense to that.”

“Sorry, dad,” Willow sighed. She lifted her eyes to me and smiled reassuringly before looking at her uncle. “Dean is my boyfriend now.”

Mathias opened his mouth, ready for a rant, but Willow silenced him when she held up her hand.

“There’s nothing you can say to change this, so save your breath. The most important problem we all have is Liam,” she said forlornly and her head dipped.

Mathias and Remy exchanged a worried look and even Maddox and Emma did as well.

“Is it bad?” Remy asked hesitantly, worry marring her face.

Willow lifted her head in a single nod. “He’s not okay, that’s for sure.”

Remy pressed her lips together in a thin line, trying to keep her emotions in check, but a choked sob escaped. Mathias quickly gathered her into his arms and they walked off towards the cover of trees to speak.

“We have food inside. Are you hungry?” Maddox asked.

“We already—” Willow started.

“Excellent. Everyone inside.”

Maddox began to usher everyone inside—and trying to get that many people inside at one time was pretty impossible.

Once we were inside Maddox picked up a cardboard box and handed it to Willow. “This arrived for you today.”

Willow let out a small squeal and thrust the box against my chest. “It’s for you!” She danced on the balls of her feet, waiting for me to open it.

“For me?” I asked skeptically as I looked down at the box.

She nodded eagerly. “Open it!” She clapped her hands together.

I ripped into the box and pulled out the shirt. “You didn’t?”

“I did!” She cried gleefully. “Isn’t it the best thing ever? You can add it to your overflowing t-shirt collection.”

The shirt was gray with blocky black letters that said: MY SPIRIT ANIMAL IS A SLOTH.

“Put it on,” she pleaded as people passed by us, heading for the kitchen and backyard.

I shrugged out of the shirt I wore and handed it to her.

“You just wanted to see me shirtless, didn’t you?” I jested.

“Maybe.” She grinned slyly as I slipped on my new sloth shirt.

I pulled the shirt down and she looked at it with an approving smile. “I wanted a cow one for myself, but apparently I’m the only person that has a cow for a spirit animal. ‘Tis a shame that the majestic cow is so under appreciated.”

I shook my head at her silliness, trying to hide my growing smile.

Holding my arms out at my sides, I asked, “How do I look?”

She looked me up and down. “I’d do you.”