An hour later, the Hudsons had gone, and my father stood across from me at the bar, chewing the last bite of a brownie I’d had no appetite for. I set his empty saucer in the sink and ran water over it.

He slid one arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. I let him. He still knew no more about me and my life than he had an hour earlier—that much hadn’t changed. But everything else had. Now he could look at me, no matter how much I resembled my mother, and see me, rather than her. He could see what he still had, rather than what he’d lost.

And he was going to stay. We’d probably fight over curfews and get on each other’s nerves, but at least those things felt normal. And I needed a good dose of normal after the week I’d just had.

I sighed, staring down at the running water, too exhausted and dazed in that moment to even realize I should turn it off.

“What’s wrong?” Dad reached around me to turn off the faucet.

“Nothing.” I shrugged, then turned with my back to the sink. “Well, everything, really. It’s just that I’ve only met three adult bean sidhes so far, and all three of you are…alone.” Tragically widowed, in fact. “Do bean sidhes ever get happy endings?”

“Of course they do,” my father insisted, wrapping one arm around my shoulders. “As much as anyone else does, at least.” And to my surprise, he didn’t look the least bit doubtful, even after all he’d been through. “I know that doesn’t seem possible right now, considering what you saw and heard tonight. But don’t judge your future based on others’ mistakes. Not Valerie’s, and certainly not mine. You’ll have as much of a happy ending as you’re willing to work for. And from what I’ve seen so far, you’re not afraid of a little work.”

I nodded, unsure how to respond.

“Besides, being a bean sidhe isn’t all bad, Kaylee.”

I gave him a skeptical frown. “That’s good to hear, ’cause from where I’m standing, it looks like a lot of death and screaming.”

“Yeah, there’s a good bit of that. But…” My father turned me by both shoulders until I stared up at him, only dimly registering the slow, steady swirls of chocolate, copper, and caramel in his eyes. “We have a gift, and if you’re willing to put up with the challenges that come with that gift, then every now and then, life will toss you a miracle.” His eyes churned faster, and his hands tightened just a little on my arms.

“You’re my miracle, Kaylee. Your mother’s too. She knew what she was doing that night on the road. She was saving our miracle. We both were. And as much as I still miss her, I’ve never regretted our decision. Not even for a second.” He blinked, and his eyes were full of tears. “Don’t you regret it either.”

“Idon’t.” I met his gaze, hoping mine looked sincere, because the truth was that I was far from sure. What made me worthy of a life beyond what fate said I should have?

My dad frowned, like he saw the truth in my eyes, which were probably telling him more than my answer had. Stupid swirls. But before he could say anything, a familiar engine growled outside, then went silent.

Nash.

I glanced at my dad expectantly, and he scowled. “Does he always come over this late?”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s nine-thirty.” Though admittedly, it felt more like two in the morning.

“Fine. Go talk to him, before he comes inside and I have to pretend I’m okay with that.”

“You don’t like him?”

My father sighed. “After everything he’s done for you, how could I not like him? But I see the way he looks at you. The way you look at each other.”

I smiled, as a car door closed outside. “What are you, ancient? Don’t you remember being my age?”

“I’m one hundred thirty-two, and I remember all too well. That’s why I’m worried.” A fleeting shadow passed over his expression, then he waved me toward the door. “Half an hour.”

Irritation spiked my temper. He’d been back for all of three hours, and was already making up rules? But I stifled a retort because even my father’s unreasonable curfew was better than being a long-term guest in my cousin’s home. Right?

Nash glanced up in surprise when I opened the front door.

He was on the bottom step, one hand on the rail. “Hey.”

“Hey.” I closed the door and leaned against it. “You forget something?”

He shrugged, and the slick green sleeves of his jacket shone under the porch light. “I just wanted to say goodnight without my mom looking over my shoulder. Or your dad.”

“Or your brother.” I couldn’t resist a grin, but Nash only frowned.

“I don’t want to talk about Tod.”

“Fair enough.” I stepped down to the middle riser and found my eyes even with his, though he stood one step below me. It was an oddly intimate pose; his body was inches from mine, but we weren’t touching. “What do you want to talk about?”

He raised one brow, and his voice came out hoarse. “Who says I want to talk?”

I let him kiss me—until my dad tapped on the window at my back. Nash groaned, and I tugged him down the steps and into the driveway, out of reach of the porch light.

“So you’re really okay with all this?” He spread his arms into the darkness, but the gesture included everything that had gone indescribably weird in my life over the past four days. “Most girls would have totally freaked out on me.”