Ember (Men of Inked: Heatwave Book 7) by Chelle Bliss

Author:Chelle Bliss [Bliss, Chelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bliss Ink LLC
Published: 2021-04-19T18:30:00+00:00

14

Rebel

I stand in the middle of the kitchen, staring at what feels like an endless sea of people. They welcomed Adaline and me, saying hello, and each and every one of them hugged me.

They hugged me…

We were strangers to them, and yet they opened their arms to us, doing everything possible to make us feel wanted.

Is this what it is like to have a family? Unconditional love and acceptance, something I never knew or believed with the way I grew up.

A small woman with gray hair grabs on to Rocco’s arm, studying me. “Welcome to my home,” she says to me. “I hope you brought your appetite, honey. We eat in this household.”

I give her a smile, knowing I could gain a few pounds, but food isn’t a priority when your life is falling apart around you. “I love to eat, ma’am, and from what I hear, you make the best food in town.”

A little girl runs up to Adaline and grabs on to her hand. “Want to play?” she asks her, not even questioning who she is or why she’s here.

Adaline tips her head back, peering up at me. “Mommy, can I? Please.”

I give her a quick nod, and she takes off with the little girl without a moment’s hesitation.

“That’s Avery, my cousin Nick’s little girl, and Adaline will be fine,” Rocco tells me, giving my hand a light squeeze as I watch them disappear. “Let her go. She’ll have more fun with her and can meet everyone later.”

I tip my head up, staring into his dark-brown eyes, feeling the butterflies that took up residence inside my belly yesterday fluttering once again. “I’m okay,” I reassure him.

He leans over, placing his mouth next to my ear. “Breathe, sugar. I know this is a lot for you, but everyone here is family, and they’re going to treat you as such. Don’t get freaked out.”

“I’m not freaked out,” I lie, plastering a smile on my face.

“Good,” the woman at his side says. “I’m Grandma, but you can call me Gram or Nonna. Those are your only two options. No ma’am or Mrs. Gallo. When you’re at my house, eating my food, and on the arm of my grandson, you’re one of us.”

“Your favorite grandson,” Rocco adds, winking at the small woman who’s solely responsible for all the people inside this house.

“Always.” The woman beams, but I have a feeling she feeds the same line to every grandkid. “I better go check the sauce. It needs my final tweaks. Have a glass of wine and settle in, sweetie. This is a marathon, not a sprint.”

I don’t know what that means, but I could take a little less running in my life. I’m mentally and physically exhausted. But after the last few days, I don’t feel so weighed down by the things I’ve been running from.

“Rebel,” Izzy, Rocco’s mom, calls out, walking toward us with her arms open. “I’m so happy you came.”

“Thank you,” I tell her as I hug her back, feeling all kinds of things from the outpouring of love and acceptance.

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